BOOK    248.4.C76H    c.  1 
CONGREGATIONALIST   AND    HERALD   OF 
GOSPEL    LIBERTY    ft    HOUSEHOLD   READIN 


3    T1S3    000t,bfl73    3 


HOUSEHOLD   READING: 


p^ 


Selectio7ts  from 


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THE    C0NGREGATI0NALIST.3.^i 


1849-1867. 


BOSTON: 

W.  L.  GREENE   &   CO.,   15    CORNHILL. 

1868. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1866,  by 

GALEN     JAMES     &     CO., 

Sa  the  Clerk's  OfBce  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


/^. 


University  Press  :  Welch,  Bigelow,  &  Co., 
Cambridge. 


PREFACE. 


A  N  attempt  has  been  made,  in  this  volume,  to  compile 
■^-^  from  the  columns  of  the  "  Congregationalist "  a  book 
which,  as  its  title  indicates,  shall  be  adapted  to  household 
reading ;  and  it  is  believed  that  its  contents  will  prove  at- 
tractive and  useful  to  all  classes,  young  and  old,  and  equally 
acceptable  in  all  evangelical  denominations. 

The  aim  has  been  to  include  as  large  a  number  of  writers 
as  consistent  with  the  plan  of  the  work ;  and  the  principal 
difficulty  has  been  to  select  from  the  great  amount  of  mate- 
rial fui-nished  by  the  files  of  the  paper.  In  some  instances 
only  a  part  of  the  original  article  has  been  used  ;  and,  with 
very  few  exceptions,  it  has  been  impossible  for  the  authors 
to  read  their  proof.  Therefore  they  should  not  be  held 
accountable  for  any  errors  m  newspaper  printing  which  may 
have  been  copied  into  this  volume.  It  has  been  necessary  to 
omit  many  articles  of  great  merit,  by  other  writers,  simply 
from  the  fact  that  the  time  or  circumstances  in  which  they 
were  written,  or  the  topics  treated,  rendered  them  inappro- 
priate in  a  work  of  this  character,  it  being  necessary  to  regard 
the  tastes  and  preferences  of  those  for  whom  it  is  prepared. 
This  explanation,  it  is  hoped,  will  be  satisfactory  to  those 
who  might  otherwise  justly  expect  to  find  themselves  repre- 
sented. 


IV  PREFACE. 

A  greater  number  of  volumes  and  tracts  have  probably- 
been  compiled  from  the  columns  of  the  "  Congregationalist " 
than  from  any  other  religious  paper  of  its  age,  which  dates 
back  to  1849.  The  first  work  of  the  kind  was  Professor 
Thomas  C.  Upham's  "  Letters  ^Esthetic,  Social,  and  Moral," 
a  volume  of  586  pages,  which  was  published  at  Brunswick, 
Maine,  in  1855.  It  was  not  stereotyped,  and  the  edition  was 
quickly  exhausted.  Rev.  Dr.  Joseph  S.  Clark's  "  Congrega- 
tional Churches  in  Massachusetts "  was  issued  in  1858. 
"  Street  Thoughts,"  by  Rev.  Henrj  M.  Dexter,  D.  D.,  soon 
followed,  a  single  chapter  of  the  book  having  appeared  in 
the  "  Congregationalist "  each  week  of  the  preceding  year. 
"  Helps  over  Hard  Places,"  one  volume  for  boys  and  one 
for  girls,  consisting  of  the  inimitable  stories  furnished  by 
Lynde  Palmer,  were  republished  by  the  American  Tract 
Society  in  1862,  and  have  had  a  very  extensive  sale.  Articles 
by  Gail  Hamilton,  who  first  became  known  to  the  public 
through  the  columns  of  the  "  Congregationalist,"  and  was 
for  several  years  one  of  its  most  valued  contributors,  have 
been  republished  in  "  Country  Living  and  Country  Think- 
ing," and  other  volumes  from  her  pen.  Sophie  May's  "  Little 
Prudy,"  an  extremely  popular  book  with  children,  was  issued 
in  1864 ;  and  other  articles  from  the  "  Congregationalist," 
by  the  same  author,  have  been  republished  in  the  later 
volumes  of  the  "  Prudy  Books." 

"  The  Potomac  and  the  Rapidan,"  a  volume  of  over  four 
hundred  pages,  compiled  from  the  popular  army  letters  of 
Rev.  A.  H.  Quint,  D.  D.,  was  also  issued  in  1864.  Numerous 
articles  by  Rev.  John  Todd,  D.  D.,  have  been  republished  in 
a  set  of  four  books  called  "  Mountain  Gems,"  and  in  other 


PREFACE.  V 

volumes  from  his  able  and  ingenious  pen.  His  Sermon  on 
Future  Punishment,  published  originally  in  the  "  Congrega- 
tionalist,"  was  adopted  and  printed  by  the  American  Tract 
Society,  both  in  Boston  and  New  York,  and  was  also  trans- 
lated and  circulated  very  extensively  in  Turkey.  Several 
articles  by  Julia  Gill,  and  her  sister,  Frances  Lee,  have  been 
republished  in  books.  Quite  a  number  of  productions  from 
the  pen  of  James  William  Kimball  have  found  extensive  cir- 
culation through  the  press  of  the  American  Tract  Society  ; 
and  many  other  articles  from  the  "  Congregationalist "  have 
also  been  republished  as  tracts.  "  Charity  Chapters  "  is  tho 
title  of  a  little  volume  of  stories  for  children,  by  Tracy 
Towne,  republished  by  the  Massachusetts  Sabbath  School. 
Society.  The  poem  near  the  close  of  this  volume,  entitled  "No 
Sects  in  Heaven,"  has  been  very  widely  printed.  At  last  ac- 
counts the  London  reprint  alone  had  reached  two  hundred 
and  twelve  thousand. 

A  fair  estimate  of  the  character,  scope,  abiHty,  and  popu- 
larity of  the  "  Congregationahst  "  may  be  formed  from  these 
pages  and  the  names  of  contributors  in  the  table  of  Con- 
tents ;  and  the  aim  of  its  conductors  in  the  future  will  be  not 
to  fall  below  the  standards  of  the  past. 

C.  A.  R. 

Boston,  December  1,  1866. 


A  third  edition  of  this  work  having  been  called  for,  the 
publishers  have  enlarged  it  to  514  pages,  by  the  addition  of 
two  or  three  articles  of  special  interest,  and  have  appended 
a  brief  history  of  the  consolidated  journal  now  issued  by  them. 


CONTENTS. 


DATE. 

Fob. 

23, 1866. 

Feb. 

22, 1861. 

May 

21, 1806. 

Dec. 

18, 1857. 

April 

4, 1862. 

Jan. 

19,  1866. 

Sept. 

28, 1860. 

March  11, 1864. 

Feb. 

24,  1865. 

Feb. 

9, 1866. 

Nov. 

3, 1865. 

June 

23, 1865. 

May- 

18, 1866. 

Jan. 

4, 1861. 

Feb. 

24,  1865. 

Feb. 

24,  1865. 

Nov. 

17,1865. 

Feb. 

16, 1866. 

Oct. 

4,1861. 

Nov. 

27, 1863. 

March  30, 1866. 

Feb. 

7, 1865. 

June 

26, 1861. 

Oct. 

3, 1862. 

Nov. 

30  and  ; 
7,  1849.  S 

Dec. 

Jan. 

13,  1865. 

Oct. 

7,  1859. 

May 

5,  1865. 

Feb. 

14,  1864. 

Oct. 

5,  1866. 

March  30,  1866. 

March  30, 1866. 

June 

1,  1866. 

Oct. 

12,  1849. 

March   6,  1863. 

PROSE. 

TITLE. 

Pastor  Harms 

The  Journey's  End  .  .  , 
Draw,  not  drive  .  .  . 
The  Crooked  Disciple  . 
Death  by  Edification  . 
The  Old  Folks  at  Home  . 
The  One  Thing  Needful 

Dr.  Emmons 

Geology  and  Genesis  .  . 
The  Old  Wagon-Wheels 
A  Reminiscence  of  Dr.  Wayland 
Preparation  for  Public  Prayer 
Fear,  the  Basis  of  all  Law     .    . 

Paper  Flowers 

Something  about  Tunnelling 

Singing  in  Church 

Building  around  Home  .... 
Shall  I  quit  the  Ministry  ?     .    . 

A  Soldier's  Funeral 

Obtaining  Help  in  the  Country 

ZiONWARD 

The  Pastor's  Eeward  .... 
Paying  a  Physician  in  Germany 
Virginia  Dare 


AUTHOR.  PAOB. 

Prof.  E.  A.  Park      .     .  1 

Rev.  J.  S.  C.  Abbott  .    .  21 

Mrs.  E.  N.  Horton  .     .  23 

Mrs.  J.  D.  Chaplin  .    .  27 

Rev.  Wooster  Parher     .  31 

Rev.  John  Todd,  D.D.    .  42 

Gail  Hamilton  ....  47 

Rev.  Alexis  W.  Ide  .    .  50 

W.  D.  Gunning    ...  51 

Rev.  George  Trask  .    .  57 

Rev.  Elias  Nason  ...  66 
Rev.  Pliny  U.  White     . 

Rev.  I.  P.  Lanffhoorlhy  . 
A.  D.  Richardson  .  . 
Rev.  J.  K.  Nutting  .  . 
Rev.  Lewis  Sabin,  D.D. 

Rev.  A.  B.  Quint,  D.D. 
Mrs.  S.  A.  F.  Herbert  . 
Rev.  Sam'l  Wolcott,  D.D. 
Rev.  P.  C.  Headley  .    . 

Frances  Lee     .... 


68 

72 

78 

81 

84 

87 

92 

95 

99 

101 

107 

110 

112 


Servetus  AND  Calvin Rev.  Joseph  Haven,  D.D.  117 


The  Bridle  on  the  Wrong  Horse 
Why  I  CANNOT  be  a  Universalist 

REMIiaSCENCES  OF  COBDEN      .      .      . 

Cards  

That  Sum  ln  Addition     .... 

Sojourner  Truth 

Preventives  of  Intemperance    . 

Willing 

Thomas  Scott,  the  Commentator 
A  Rational  Conversion  .... 


Rev.  Abraham  Burnham  128 
Rev.  Zachary  Edihj,  D.D.  132 
Rev.J.P.Tk>mpson,D.D.  141 
Mrs.  P.  H.  Phelps  .  .  144 
Rev.  H.  B.  Booker,  D.D.  147 
Rev.  B.  L.  Bammxmd  .  149 
Prof.  J.  M.  Boppin  .  .  152 
C.  A.  Richardson  .  .  .  160 
Rev.  L  N.  Tarbox  .  .  167 
Rev.  W.  B.  Willcox  .    .  175 


Till 


CONTENTS. 


Sept. 

15 

1865. 

Oct. 

5 

1866. 

May 

17 

1861. 

April 

14, 

1865. 

April 

21 

1865. 

April 

21 

1865. 

April 

21 

1865. 

April 

28, 

1865. 

]\ray 

11 

1866. 

March  30 

1866. 

Oct. 

30, 

1857. 

Dec. 

10, 

1858. 

Mav 

22, 

1857. 

April 

27, 

1866. 

April 

26, 

1850. 

Dec. 

15, 

1853. 
1862. 

July 

28, 

1865. 

March  30, 

1866. 

Feb. 

20, 

1857. 

Oct. 

19, 

1866. 

May 

8, 

1863. 

Sept. 

21, 

1860. 

Sept. 

25, 

1863. 

Dec. 

11, 

1863. 

May 

10, 

1861. 

April 

2', 

1860. 

April 

29, 

1857. 

Aug. 

25, 

1865. 

July 

20, 

1866. 

Jan. 

8, 

1864. 

Dec. 

3, 

1858. 

June 

1, 

1858. 

Jan. 

5, 

1866. 

April 

11, 

1862. 

Oct. 

19, 

1866. 

Marcl 

I   3, 

1863. 

May 

25, 

1866. 

March   2, 

1860. 

Dec. 

17, 

1858. 

Feb. 

8, 

1856. 

Jan. 

12, 

1866. 

April 

20, 

1866. 

Sept. 

4, 

1863. 

Oct. 

19, 

1866. 

Aug. 

17, 

1866. 

Oct. 

23, 

1863. 

June 

26, 

1863. 

Dec. 

28 

1855. 

The  Name  of  God Rev.  Selali  Merrill   .    .  173 

Stephen  Arnold  Douglas    .    .    .  Rev.LeonnrdBacon,D.D.  179 

OuK  National  Flag Eev.  H.M.  Dexter,  D.D.  ISS 

General  Lee's  Surrender  .    .    .  Samuel  Burnham .    .    .  190 

Assassination  of  the  President  .  Samuel  Burnham .    .    .  193 

Abraham  Lincoln JRev.  H.  M.  Dexter,  D.D.  194 

President  Lincoln's  Funeral     .  Samuel  Burnham .    .    .  197 

The  Assassination Rev.  E.  N.  Kirk,  D.D.  .  199 

President  Lincoln Prof.  W.  S.  Tyler    .    .  202 

A  Talk  with  President  Lincoln  Rev.J.P.Thom2^son,D.D.  208 

Vain  Thoughts Rev.  P.  B.  Day,  D.D.   .  216 

Speak  about  Christ! Rev.  J.  A.  Copp,  D.D.  .  218 

Brother  Croaker Rev.  G.  B.  Willcox  .    .  227 

No  Fear  FOR  THE  Christian     .    .  Mrs.  S.G.  Ashion  .    .    .230 

Regeneration Rev.Edw.Beecher,D.D.  232 

The  Flower  in  the  Desert      .     .  Prof.  Thomas  C.  Upham  233 

A  Virginia  Schoolma'am     .    .    .  Rev.  A.  H.  Quint,  D.D.   234 

Ministerial  Irreverence    .    .    .  Rev.  A.  H.  Plumb     .    .  237 

An  Antiquarian  Dinner  ....  Rev.  W.  L.  Gage  .    .    .  240 

How  ARE  You? Rev.  H.  D.  Walker   .     .246 

I  can't  love  Him J.  W.  Kimball  ....  248 

The  Power  of  Little  Things  .    .  Rev.  William  Warren    .  254 

How  long  shall  I  LIVE  ?  .     .     .     .  Rev.  J.  S.  Sewall .     .    .  255 

Advice  to  toung  Preachers  .    .  Rev.  Enoch  Pond,  D.D.    259 

Anecdotes  of  Clergymen  .    .     .  Mrs.  F.  D.  Holmes   .    .  266 

The  jesting  Deacon Rev.  J.  S.  Clarh,  D.D.  .  267 

I  can't  repent Rev.  L.  H.  Cobb    .     .     .  270 

Thomas  Guthrie Rev.  J.  0.  Means     .    .  271 

Death  in  the  Ball-Room     .     .     .  Rev.  Leander  Thompson  275 

Preparation  Necessary      .    .     .  Rev. A.  W.Burnham,D.D. 277 

Jesus  WEEPING Rev.  H.M.  Dexter,  D.D.  280 

Giving  as  we  spend Rev.  W.  M.  Thayer  .     .  281 

Theological  Controversy  .    .    .  Rev.  W.  A.  Stearns,  D.D.  283 

A  Freedman's  Wedding  ....  Rev.  Horace  James    .     .  285 

Parental  Influence Rev.  M.  S.  Howard  .    .  287 

The  English  Government  .     .    .  Rev.  C.  Gushing    .    .    .  289 

Usefulness  of  Faultfinders  .    .  Rev.  William  Phijijjs     .  294 

Honor  for  Thieves Samuel  Burnham .    .    .  295 

"  We  esteemed  Him  not"     .     .     .  Rev.  E.  W.  Gilman  .     .  298 

Two  Dying  Boys Rev.  George  B.  Jeweit  .  299 

Pendants  and  Pillars     ....  Rev.  D.  Butler     .    .    .  3C3 

Luke  Short Rev.  J.  A.  Vinton  ,    .    .  305 

Andersonville  Prison     ....  Rev.  Hiram  Eddy      .    .  307 

Gone! — so  suddenly Rev.  Lyman  Whiting     .  310 

God's  Anger Rev.  C.  R.  Bliss    .    .    .312 

The  Pleasures  OF  Travel  .    .    .  Rev.J.C.HolbrooJc,D.D.  314 

God  is  Love Rev.  W.  T.  Briggs   .    .  315 

Extemporaneous  Preaching   .    .  Worthingtonnooker,M.D.Sil 

Length  of  Life Rev.  A.  L.  Stone,  D.  D. .  324 


CONTENTS. 


IZ 


June 

27, 

Jan. 

30, 

Apri] 

2, 

Jan. 

6, 

March  2, 

May- 

25, 

May 

31, 

Feb. 

17, 

March  2, 

Feb. 

8, 

Oct. 

12, 

Feb. 

6, 

Dec. 

25, 

July 

27, 

Dec. 

21, 

May 

1, 

March  18, 

April 

15, 

Dec. 

19, 

Oct. 

4, 

Oct. 

8, 

Dec. 

8, 

Aug. 

5, 

Oct. 

16, 

Nov. 

1, 

Jan. 

31, 

April 

12, 

Sept. 

14, 

April 

25, 

Dec. 

29, 

July 

21, 

July 

16, 

Nov. 

20, 

March  17, 

May 

8, 

April 

24, 

Sept. 

11, 

Sept. 

5, 

June 

1, 

Jan. 

28, 

Marct 

24, 

Aug. 

24, 

July 

2", 

April 

13, 

Dec. 

2 

Dec. 

16, 

July 

24, 

Aug. 

28, 

March  30, 

,  1862.    N.  H.  Female  Cent  Institution    •    Eev.  William  Qark  .    .  327 

,1863.     N.  E.  Homes  IN  KooRDiSTAN  .     .     .  Jiev.  Justin  Perkins,  D.D.  SSd 

,  1858.     The  First  Death-Bed Rev.  Mortimer  Blake    .  332 

,  1860.     Testimony  of  the  Stars  ....     C.  C.  Coffin 334 

,  1862.     Grace  abounding Rev.  T.  E.  Bliss    .    .    .  341 

,  1866.    The  Bible  in  the  Pulpit     .    .    .  Rev.  James  G.  Vase  .    .  344 

,  1861.     Gone Gail  Hamilton  .    .    .    .346 

,  1865.     Opinions  of  a  Negro Rev.  E.  P.  Smith  .    .    .351 

,  1860.    System  in  Benevolence  ....  Rev.  D.  T.  Fiske,  D.D. .  355 

,  1861.    Monica  and  her  Son Rev.  J.  Jay  Dana  .    .    .  356 

,  1866.    Forms  and  Ceremonies    ....  Rev.  Jonas  King,  D.D.  .  362 

,  1857.     Do  YOUR  Best Rev.  A.  C.  Adams      .    .  364 

,1853.    Not  A  New  Idea  IN  IT Rev.  H.  M.  Dexter,  D.D.  ZQ% 

,  1860.     High  Street,  Edinburgh     .    .    .  Rev.  W.  L.  Gage  .    .    .  371 

,  1860.     A  Laughing-Stock Rev.  I.  P.  Langworthy  .  375 

,  1857.    Fickle  Piety Rev.  J.  W.  Wellman  .    .  377 

,  1864.    The  Prayer-Meeting Rev.  J.  E.  B.  Jeweit  .    .  386 

,  1864.    A  Word  in  Season Mrs.  C.  L.  Blake  .    .    .  387 

,  1862.    Dead Mrs.  J.  N.  Stevens    .    .  389 

,  1861.    Prayer  in  a  Perilous  Position  .  Rev.  M.  K.  Cross  .    .    .  393 

,  1858.    Iago Prof.  J.  M.  Hoppin   .     .  394 

,  1865.    The  First  Glass Rev.  George  Trask    .    .  399 

,  1864.    Deacon  Rising's  Dancing-School  Rev.  John  Todd,  D.D.    .  399 

,  1863.    Endless  Roads Rev.  J.  S.  Sewall  .    .    ,  409 

,  1861.     Brother  Grimwood Lynde  Palmer  ....  410 

,  1851.    Hypocrisy Rev.  R.  S.  Stoj-rs,  D.D. .  414 

,  1861.    Eleonora,  a  Poor  Sinner    .    .    .  Rev.  J.  S.  C.  Abbott   .    .  417 

,  1866.     Science  and  the  Bible    ....  Rev.  I.  N.  Tarbox     .    .  420 

,  1862.    The  Night  of  Despair     .    .    .  Rev.  P.  C.  Headley   .    .  422 

,  1865.    Professing  Christ 3Irs.  E.  N.  Horton    .    .  423 

,  1864.     Crazy  Catherine Julia  Gill 425 

,  1858.    Blackburn  and  the  Lawyer  .    .  Rev.  J.  T.  Tucker      .    .  433 

,  1857.    Man  not  made  for  Perdition  .    .  Rev.  E.  N.  Kirk,  D.D.  .  435 

,  1865.     The  Angky  Inquirer Rev.  Leander  Thompson .  439 

,  1857.    Morning  Musings Rev.  D.  P.  Noyes  .    .    .  441 

,  1857.    Heat  vs^ithin  aids  Heat  without  Rev.  E.  W.  Oilman   .    .  444 

,  1857.     Pay  that  thou  owest      ....  C.  A.  Richardson  .    .     .  446 

,  1866.    Scene  on  Mount  Washington  .    .  Rev.  Jonathan  Edwards  .  448 

,  1855.    Peace  in  Trial Rev.  W.  C.  Jackson   .    .  454 

,  1859.    The  Minister's  Monday  ....  Rev.  George  T.  Dole  .    .  457 

,1861.    Progress  BY  Convulsion     .    .    .  Rev.  S.  Mc  Call     .    .    .459 

,  1866.    Origin  of  Musical  Syllables     .  Rev.  J.  A.  Vinton  .    .    .  461 

,1866.    Eminent  English  Preachers  .    .  Rev.  J.  P.  Thompson,  D.D.  i6i 

,  1866.    Soldiers'  Monuments Eon.  Amasa  Walker  .    .  470 

,  1859.    Home  Debts Rev.  J.  M.  Chamberlain  474 

,  1859.     Laban  Wheaton's  Question    .     .  Rev.  George  Allen     .    .  476 

,  1863.    The  Darkened  Cage Rev.  P.  C.  Eeadley  .    .  479 

,  1863.     Christ  as  a  Preacher     ....  Rev.  C.  W.  Torrey  .    .  479 

,  1S55.     Maranatha Rev.  Timothy  A.  Taylor   485 


X  CONTENTS. 

June  10, 1859.    The  Silence  of  Sckiptcek   .    .    .  Rev.  Jonathan  Brace     .  488 

May  18,  1866.     Our  Senior  Deacon 491 

Jan.    11,  1867.     Gunga 3frs.  Julia  P.  Ballard  .  497 

Sept.    5,1867.    A  Hidden  Cross Prof.  J.  C.  Bodioell,  B.D.  oOG 

Sept.    4, 1857.     Christian  Doctrines 509 

The  Congregationalist  amd  Boston  Recorder  ....  511 

JUVENILE. 

Wings,  some  Day; N.  L.  E. 25 

Kitty's  Rebellion Jenny  Bradford   ...    37 

The  Young  Conqueror     ....  Lynde  Palmer  ....    47 

Take  my  Hand,  Papa S.  E.  Biidgman   ...    78 

Reproved  by  a  Child Mrs.  J.  N.  Stevens    .    .    91 

The  Broken  Wagon Jiirs.  M.  J.  Richardson  .  104 

Fred's  Goliath S.  C  Dunning ....  129 

Dreamed  IT Rev.  A.  31.  Richardson .  138 

What  are  you  thinking  about  ?  .  Lucy  Larcom   ....  161 

The  Bewitched  Gun Frances  Lee     ....  163 

Eleanor's  Story Tracy  Towne    ....  213 

Not  lost,  but  gone  before  .    .    .     Genesee 222 

Prudy's  Knitting- Work  .    .    .    .    Sophie  May 251 

Miss  Daffodil Miss  E.  Stuart  Phelps   .  317 

A  Reform-School  Scene      .    .    .  Rev.  T.  D.  P.  Stone  .    .  328 

Little  Willie Ellen  S.  Eastman      .    .  338 

The  Little  Teacher Sophie  May 880 

Coasting Mrs.  M.  J.  Richardson  .  405 

Herbert's  New  Year Miss  C.  M.  Packard     .  428 

Charley  Grey's  Dream  ....  Mrs.  C.  H.  Haskell  .    .  450 

Good  at  a  Bargain Mrs.  P.  H.  Phelps    .    .  482 


POETEY. 

Let  me  go Rev.  Ray  Palmer,  D.D.     20 

Anglo-Saxon  Whittling  Song     .    Rev.  1.  N.  Tarbox   .    .    34 

Waiting Julia  Gill 46 

A  Child's  Evening  Hymn    .    .    .    Miss  C.  M.  Packard     .    59 

The  Village  Clock 70 

My  Angel-Dress Lucy  Larcom  ....    86 

Textual  Song E.  W.  B.  Canning    .    .    98 

Up  there,  Mother 108 

Six  Little  Feet  on  the  Fender 127 

The  Sweetest  Word Mrs.  S.  A.  F.  Herbert  .  139 

Ministry  of  the  Departed  .    .    .    Mrs.  S.  J.  H.  Tenney   .  158 

Unfinished  Life Mrs.  M.  S.  Corning  .    .173 

The  Isle  of  the  Long  Ago  .    .    .    B.  F.  Taylor    .    .    .    .189 

Hearken,  Little  One N.  F.  Carter    .    .    .       212 

Losing  and  Living Rev.  H.  W.  Parker  .    ,  220 


Feb. 

15, 

1861. 

Oct. 

28, 

1864. 

April 

13, 

1860. 

Dec. 

9, 

1864. 

Jan. 

18, 

1858. 

Sept. 

19, 

1856. 

May 

26, 

1865. 

Feb. 

15, 

1861. 

Sept. 

12, 

1856. 

July 

7, 

1865. 

Aug. 

19, 

1864. 

July 

13, 

1866. 

Aug. 

30, 

1861. 

March  31, 

1865. 

Dec. 

21, 

1860. 

Julv 

11, 

1862. 

Sept. 

13, 

1861. 

Jan. 

16, 

1857. 

Jan. 

2 

1863. 

Aug. 

1, 

1856. 

Nov. 

20, 

1863. 

Nov. 

2,  1860. 

Feb. 

5,  1864. 

May 

4,  1866. 

Feb. 

16,  1866. 

April 

27, 1866. 

Feb. 

5,  1858. 

Jan. 

1,  1866. 

Oct. 

5,  1866. 

Oct. 

7, 1859. 

July 

29,  1864. 

May 

31,  1861. 

Oct. 

5, 1866. 

May 

18,  1866. 

Sept. 

4, 

CONTENTS. 


XI 


Aug. 

6,'1858 

Feb. 

7,  18C3. 

March 

3,  1866. 

Jan. 

26,  1863. 

Dec. 

15,  1865. 

March  20,  1863. 

Oct. 

26,  1860. 

Feb. 

4,  1859. 

July 

4,  1856. 

July 

6,  1866. 

April 

1,  1864. 

Jan. 

29,  1864. 

Nov. 

9,  1866. 

March 

9,  1866. 

July 

27,  1866. 

Sept. 

23,  1859. 

Nov. 

20,  1863. 

Sept. 

7,  1860. 

Deeds  of  Kindness 245 

Invitation  to  the  Sabbath  School  Eev.  Owen  Street .    .    .  258 
Cast  down,  but  not  destroyed     Eev.  Edwin  Johnson  .    .  278 

Fellowship Mane  Mason  ....  288 

The  Bitter  Cup Rev.  W.  C  Richards     .  302 

Our  Baby L.  A.  H.  B 313 

A  Winter  Sunrise M.  G.  Benjamin  .    .    .  329 

The  Mourner's  Prayer  .    .    .    .    3Iiss  S.  P.  Newman  ."^ .  SiS 
Monica  and  Augustine    ....    Lucy  Larcom    ....  359 

In  Affliction Rev.  E.  P.  Dyer   .    .    .  370 

A  little  Child  shall  lead  them    Mrs.  C.  E.  Reed  .    .    .  392 

Come  up  Hither Mrs.  A.  B.  C.  Keene .    .  404 

The  Wee-Bit  Bairn Rev.  J.  E.  Rankin     .    .  419 

Cradle  Song Samuel  Burnham  .    .    .  434 

To  my  Grandmother 453 

When  thou  hast  shut  thy  Door     Mary  E.  Atkinson .    .    .  469 

Departed  Friends Joseph  S.  Ropes     .    .    .  481 

Lily  Bell Miss  L.  T.  Larkin     .    .  490 

No  Sect  in  Heaven Mrs.  E.  H.  J.  Cleaveland  493 


HOUSEHOLD    READING. 


PASTOR    HARMS. 


HUNDREDS  and  thousands  of  Christians,  in  all  parts 
of  the  world,  will  hear  with  peculiar  grief  that  Louis 
Harms,  the  pastor  of  Herrmannsburg,  in  the  kingdom  of  Han- 
over, is  no  longer  among  the  living.  He  was  about  fifty-seven 
years  of  age  at  the  time  of  his  decease,  but  he  seems  to  have 
performed* the  work  of  a  century.  He  was  born  in  Herrmanns- 
burg about  the  year  1809,  and  he  supposed  himself  to  have 
been  descended  from  the  great  Herrmann  [Harms]  who  gave 
the  name  to  the  town.  The  influence  of  Pastor  Harms  over 
his  parish  is  tiio  more  remarkable  as  he  was  a  native  of  it, 
and  had  honor  among  those  who  knew  him  in  his  childhood. 
He  was  born  in  the  parsonage  itself.  His  father  was  the 
former  pastor  of  the  church,  and  was  remarkable  for  his  se- 
vere discipline  of  his  children.  They  were  trained  to  all  the 
manly  sports ;  and  Louis,  when  quite  a  boy,  was  noted  as  a 
wrestler  and  boxer,  and  as  expert  in  all  the  athletic  exercises. 
Many  incidents  are  narrated  of  his  early  feats,  his  daring,  his 
inflexible  spirit. 

One  of  these  incidents,  illustrating  the  rigid  discipline  of 
the  parsonage,  is  the  following.  When  Louis  and  his  brother 
were  small  boys,  they  agreed  to  leap  down  the  long  flight  of 
stairs  in  their  father's  house.  Louis  performed  his  part  of 
the  agreement,  but  the  feat  was  too  perilous  for  the  brother; 
he  was  seized  with  a  sudden  fear,  and  refused  to  keep  his 
promise.  Louis  pushed  him  down  the  stairs,  and  the  brother 
1 


2  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

made  a  loud  outcry,  his  face  being  covered  with  blood,  and 
his  whole  body  bruised  and  pained.  The  father,  with  his 
wonted  dignity,  came  from  the  study ;  bade  the  wounded 
boy  give  Ms  version  of  the  quarrel ;  then  turned  to  Louis 
with  the  question,  "  What  sayest  thou  ?  "  Louis  answered, 
"My  brother  promised  to  jump  down  stairs,  but  he  broke  his 
promise,  and  I  pushed  him  down."  The  father  asked  the 
bruised  child,  "  Is  this  so  ? "  "  Yes,"  was  the  reply,  "  Then," 
said  the  pastor,  "  Louis  hath  the  right "  ;  and  retired  to  his 
study. 

Throughout  his  subsequent  life,  Pastor  Harms  exhibited 
a  firm,  self-reliant,  unyielding  will,  and  an  intense  love  of 
activity,  all  of  which  were  foreshadowed  in  many  an  incident 
of  his  boyhood.  He  did  not  shrink  from  what  he  considered 
justice,  and  was  willing  to  endure  any  amount  of  suffering  in 
a  good  cause. 

The  great  Limeburger  Heath,  of  which  Herrmannsburg  is 
one  of  the  villages,  contains  about  a  hundred  square  miles, 
and  is  inhabited  by  a  simple-hearted  peasantry,  who  obtain 
their  support  by  cultivating  the  soil,  by  keeping  slieep,  and 
especially  by  keeping  bees.  A  great  value  is  attached  to  the 
Liineburger  honey.  The  inhabitants  of  this  extensive  Heath 
are  ardently  attached  to  it ;  and  they  loved  their  pastor  the 
more,  as  he  cherished  for  it  an  affection  so  intense  and  pecu- 
liar. He  had  made  extensive  and  learned  researches  into  its 
early  history  ;  he  loved  to  point  out  the  exact  localities  where 
the  battles  were  fought,  centuries  ago,  by  the  Pagan  tribes  ; 
where  human  victims,  according  to  tradition,  were  immolated 
long  before  the  Christian  missionary  came  to  the  Heath ; 
where  the  first  Christian  sermon  was  preached ;  where  the 
first  Pagan  ruler  of  the  Heath  was  baptized ;  where  Tilly 
breakfasted  with  his  army  as  they  marched  through  Herr- 
mannsburg ;  where  various  thrilling  scenes  were  enacted 
during  and  before  the  Thirty  Years'  War.  Perhaps  he  was 
more  learned  than  any  other  man  in  the  history  of  this  en- 
tire region.  He  was  also  a  great  student  of  Livy,  Tacitus, 
and  other  ancient  historians. 


PASTOR   HARMS.  3 

Before  he  came  to  the  pastorate  of  Herrmannsburg  there 
was  not  much  religious  activity  in  the  church.  Either  ra- 
tionalism or  a  dead  orthodoxy  prevailed  through  the  land. 
He  had  not  labored  long,  however,  before  the  whole  com- 
munity caught  the  sympathy  of  his  own  spirit.  The  schools 
came  under  his  influence,  and  he  seemed  to  have  as  much 
control  over  them  as  an  American  pastor  has  over  his  Sun- 
day school.  On  two  days  in  the  week  the  scholars  were 
called  to  give  an  account  of  his  sermons.  The  people  be- 
came regular  attendants  at  church,  devout  observers  of  the 
Sabbath,  and  strict  in  maintaining  family  prayer.  Notwith- 
standing all  that  is  said  about  the  Puritan  usages  of  New 
England,  there  is  not  perhaps  a  single  New  England  com- 
munity which  exhibits  so  many  external  signs  of  religious 
zeal  as  are  shown  in  this  German  parish.  Many  of  the 
peasants  have  committed  to  memory  a  large  part  of  the 
hymn-book,  and  large  portions  of  the  Bible ;  some  of  them 
the  entire  Epistle  to  the  Romans.  On  a  Monday  morning  I 
met  a  carpenter  going  to  his  day-labor.  "  How  do  you  do  ?  " 
I  asked.  "  I  cannot  hut  be  well,"  he  replied,  "  having  so 
many  religious  privileges  as  I  enjoy  here.  I  removed  to 
Herrmannsburg  from  a  distant  town,  for  the  sake  of  hearing 
Pastor  Harms,  and  I  am  rewarded  every  Sabbath  for  my 
removal."  A  stranger  is  apt  to  regard  the  villagers  as  living 
almost  altogether  for  the  church  and  for  missions.  "Are 
there  not  some  unbelievers  in  the  parish  ? "  I  asked  my  land 
lord.     "  There  is  one,  and  only  one,"  was  the  landlord's  reply. 

The  parish  is  about  ten  miles  square,  contains  seven  vil 
lages,  and  about  forty-five  hundred  inhabitants.  From  these 
villages  men,  women,  and  children  come  flocking  to  their 
sanctuary,  which  is  regarded  by  them  with  a  reverence  like 
that  of  the  ancient  Jews  for  their  temple  in  Jerusalem. 
Pastor  Harms  will  not  allow  this  venerable  edifice  to  be  torn 
down  or  remodelled.  He  has  spent  money  enough  in  repairing 
it  to  have  erected  a  new  edifice  ;  but  as  it  was  built  in  A.  D. 
975,  and  as  his  ancestors,  and  the  ancestors  of  some  of  his 


4  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

people,  have  worshipped  in  it  for  nearly  nine  hundred  years, 
he  regards  the  very  structure  as  a  means  of  grace.  Into  this 
church  come  about  a  thousand  worshippers  at  each  of  the 
two  exercises  on  the  Sabbath ;  and  about  four  hundred  every 
Wednesday ;  for  Wednesday  is  a  lecture  day,  and  nearly  the 
whole  of  it  consecrated  to  religioiis  services.  The  people  are 
comfortably  clad ;  none  are  allowed  to  suffer  through  indi- 
gence ;  and  no  beggar  is  tolerated  in  the  parish.  Pastor 
Harms  had  a  skigular  enmity  to  beggars  of  every  kind. 

He  was  also  very  severe  upon  all  the  fashionable  pleasures 
of  the  world.  "  Alas  !  "  I  heard  him  say  in  the  pulpit,  "how 
many  in  this  kingdom  act  themselves  into  hell  from  the 
theatre  ;  sing  themselves  into  hell  from  the  opera ;  drink 
themselves  into  hell  from  the  tavern  ;  play  themselves  into 
hell  from  the  card-table  ;  dance  themselves  into  hell  from  the 
ball-room  ;  laugh  themselves  into  hell  from  the  evening  ca- 
rousal." In  the  same  sermon  he  said  :  "I  love  to  dwell  in 
the  country,  because  it  is  comparatively  so  pure  from  vice. 
I  am  never  at  ease  when  I  am  in  the  city.  My  happiest  mo- 
ment in  the  city  is  when  I  turn  my  back  upon  it,  and  start 
for  my  dear,  still  home.  It  was  so  with  my  Redeemer. 
When  he  must  needs  go  to  the  city,  he  went,  for  thus  it  be- 
came him  to  fulfil  all  righteousness  ;  but  he  could  not  spend 
his  evenings  there  ;  he  left  it  when  the  sun  set,  and  went  to 
the  silent  and  sweet  cottage  of  Bethany,  which  reminds  me  of 
my  own  Herrmannsburg,"  An  oft-repeated  saying  of  Harms 
is,  "  I  am  a  Liineburger,  body  and  soul ;  and  there  is  not  a 
country  in  the  world  that  I  would  put  before  the  Liineburger 
Heath ;  and  next  to  being  a  Liineburger,  I  am  a  Herrmanns- 
burger,  and  I  hold  that  Herrmannsburg  is  the  best  and  pret- 
tiest village  on  the  Heath."  It  is  by  such  sayings,  and  by 
acts  proving  them  to  be  sincere,  that  he  bound  his  villagers 
to  him  in  a  degree  seldom  surpassed. 

He  especially  loved  to  perpetuate  in  his  parish  the  old  re- 
ligious customs.  Over  many  a  door  of  his  village  is  printed 
some  verse  of  the  Bible,  or  some  stanza  of  a  hymn.     The 


PASTOR   HARMS.  5 

front  door  of  a  house  near  the  parsonage  is  surmounted  with 
these  words :  "  0  God  !  bless  our  outgoing  ;  in  like  manner 
our  incoming ;  bless  our  daily  bread,  bless  what  we  do,  and 
our  abstaining  from  what  we  do  not ;  bless  us  with  a  liappy 
death,  and  make  us  heirs  of  Heaven,  Amen."  At  sunrise, 
sunset,  and  midday  the  cluirch-bell  is  tolled  for  two  or 
three  minutes,  and  at  the  first  stroke  of  the  bell  men,  wo- 
men, and  children  stop  their  work,  wherever  they  are,  —  in 
the  house  or  the  field  or  the  street,  —  and  offer  a  silent 
prayer.  Usually  they  repeat  three  times  the  words  of  thg 
Litany  :  "  0  Lamb  of  God  !  who  takest  away  the  sin  of  the 
world,  have  mercy  upon  us."  Once  I  saw  a  company  of 
seventeen  men  on  their  way  to  a  wedding  at  the  church, 
when  suddenly  they  stopped,  took  off  their  hats,  and  seemed 
to  be  devout  in  prayer  until  the  bell  ceased  tolling.  Often 
during  the  evening,  as  men  walked  the  streets,  they  sang  the 
old  church  hymns.  Nearly  every  villager  could  sing,  and 
the  religious  tunes  seemed  to  be  the  only  favorites.  There- 
fore, the  singing  of  his  congregation  in  the  sanctuary  was 
enthusiastic  as  well  as  general. 

Pastor  Harms  was  a  monarchist,  yet  often  preached 
against  the  measures  of  the  Hanoverian  government,  and 
more  than  once  prepared  his  people  to  resist  them.  The 
King,  however,  revered  him,  and  even  sought  his  company. 
On  one  occasion  when  Harms  was  in  the  city  of  Hanover, 
liis  Majesty  despatched  one  of  the  high  officers  of  the  gov- 
ernment to  the  pastor,  and  requested  him  to  accompany  tlie 
officer  in  the  state-carriage  to  the  palace.  "  Give  my  regards 
to  the  King,"  said  Harms,  "  and  tell  him  that  I  would  obey 
liis  order  if  my  duty  allowed  ;  hut  I  must  go  home  and  attend 
to  my  parish."'  The  officer  was  astonished,  and  anticipated 
tlie  indignation  of  his  Majesty  ;  but  the  King,  receiving  the 
reply,  remarked,  "  Pastor  Harms  is  the  man  for  me." 

It  is  natural,  to  suppose  that  parishioners  so  ardently  be- 
loved, and  so  tenderly  cared  for,  would  cherish  an  unbounded 
confidence  in  their  pastor.     They  looked  up  to  him  as  their 


6  '  HOUSEHOLD   READING. 

father.  In  this  respect,  his  parish  was  a  fair  representative 
of  the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centuries  in  Germany  and 
in  Scotland. 

Almost  every  day  from  ten  o'clock  until  twelve  in  the 
morning,  and  from  four  imtil  six  in  the  afternoon,  he  held 
a  reception  for  his  parishioners,  and  they  would  go,  one  by 
one,  into  his  study,  and  unfold  their  troubles  about  the  hir- 
ing or  buying  of  a  tract  of  land,  or  about  the  remedy  for 
some  disease,  but  more  especially  about  their  spiritual  af- 
fairs, their  sins  and  temptations.  A  stranger  was  sometimes 
obliged  to  wait  several  days,  before  he  could  gain  admittance 
to  this  thronged  study.  The  anteroom,  at  these  reception 
hours,  reminded  me  of  the  waiting-room  of  some  eminent 
city  physician  at  his  set  time  of  consultation  with  his  invalid 
visitors.  But  the  character  of  Pastor  Harms  as  a  philanthro- 
pist is  best  known  to  the  churches  by  his  missionary  enter- 
prise. 

The  peasants  of  Herrmannsburg  knew  little  or  nothing  of 
Foreign  Missions  until  he  became  their  minister.  About  the 
year  1846  he  began  his  pastoral  life  among  them  ;  and  as 
early  as  1849  he  formed  the  plan  of  establishing  in  his  parish 
a  seminary  for  the  training  of  ministers  for  Pagan  lands. 
He  designed  to  educate  young  peasants  who  had  already 
learned  some  trade,  and  who  could  therefore  introduce  the 
arts  of  Christian  life,  as  well  as  the  ordinances  of  the  Chris- 
tian Church,  into  heathen  countries.  He  desired  to  train 
pastors  who  had  been  farmers,  shepherds,  carpenters,  tailors, 
blacksmiths,  shoemakers,  bakers  ;  and  who  would  thus  sus- 
tain themselves  in  some  degree,  while  they  instructed  the 
heathen  in  things  temporal  and  spiritual.  But  how  could  he 
found  such  a  seminary  ?  He  was  the  son  of  a  poor  country 
minister,  and  of  course  had  no  money.  His  parishioners  were 
indigent  and  had  no  rich  relatives.  He  despised  beggars, 
and  would  not  solicit  funds  from  men.  He  wrote,  with  re- 
gard to  one  of  his  difficulties,  and  has  often  made  a  similar 
statement  with  regard  to  many  other  of  his  enterprises  :  "  No 


PASTOR   HARMS.  V 

one  encouraged  me,  but  the  reverse ;  and  even  the  truest 
friends  and  brethren  hinted  that  I  was  not  quite  in  my  sen- 
ses. Wlien  Duke  George  of  Saxony  lay  on  his  death-bed,  and 
was  yet  in  doubt  to  whom  he  should  flee  with  his  soul, 
whether  to  the  Lord  Christ  and  his  dear  merits,  or  to  the 
Pope  and  his  good  works,  there  spoke  a  trusty  courtier  to 
him,  '  Your  Grace,  straight  forward  makes  the  best  run- 
ner ! '  That  word  had  lain  fast  in  my  soul.  I  had  knocked 
at  men's  doors  and  found  them  shut ;  and  yet  the  plan  was 
manifestly  good  and  for  the  glory  of  God.  What  was  to  be 
done  ?  '  Straight  forward  makes  the  best  runner  ! '  I  prayed 
fervently  to  the  Lord,  laid  the  matter  in  His  hand,  and,  as  I 
rose  up  at  midnight  from  my  knees,  I  said,  with  a  voice 
that  almost  startled  me  in  my  quiet  room,  '  Forward  now, 
IN  God's  name  ! '  From  that  moment  there  never  came 
a  thought  of  doubt  in  my  mind."  *  He  prayed  to  God. 
Funds  began  to  pour  in  upon  him.  He  erected  a  large 
edifice.  He  had  more  applicants  for  admission  to  the  semi 
nary  than  he  could  accommodate.  He  prayed  again.  He 
received  funds  from  distant  parts  of  Germany,  from  Rus- 
sia, from  Great  Britain,  from  America.  He  erected  another 
edifice.  There  are  now  two  large  buildings,  capable  of  ac- 
commodating forty-eight  students  and  two  teachers  with 
their  families.  The  rooms  are  now  filled  with  pupils.  A 
large  farm  is  also  given  to  the  seminary,  on  which  the  stu- 
dents labor  at  stated  times  for  the  "  common's  table."  One 
young  man  in  the  village  gave  his  own  house  and  lands,  val- 
ued at  about  five  thousand  dollars,  to  the  mission  school,  and 
also  gave  himself  as  a  foreign  missionary.  He  entered  the 
seminary  as  a  pupil,  and  became  a  faithful  preacher.  A  third 
instructor  or  professor,  a  nobleman,  removed  his  family  to 
Herrmannsburg,  and  now  gives  his  services  to  the  school ; 
yet  Pastor  Harms  has  never  solicited  a  farthing  from  men. 
He  calls  his  mission  school  "  swimyning  iron  "  ;  for  he  regards 
it  as  sustained  by  a  constant  supernatural  care. 

*  Praying  and  Working,  p.  336. 


8  HOUSEHOLD  EEADING. 

He  narrates  hundreds  of  remarkable  interpositions  in  his 
behalf.  Once  he  prayed  to  God  for  a  medicine-chest  which 
his  missionaries  needed ;  and  he  soon  received  a  letter  en- 
closing money  for  a  medicine-chest.  He  writes :  "  A  short 
time  ago,  I  had  to  pay  a  merchant  five,  hundred  and  fifty 
crowns  ;  and,  when  the  day  of  payment  was  near,  I  had  only 
four  hundred.  Then  I  prayed  to  the  Lord  Jesus  that  he 
would  provide  me  with  the  deficiency.  On  the  day  before 
the  time  of  payment  three  letters  were  brought,  one  from 
Schwerm  with  twenty,  one  from  Biicksburg  with  twenty-five, 
and  one  from  Berlin  with  a  hundred  crowns.  On  the  even- 
ing of  the  same  day  a  laborer  brought  me  ten  crowns,  so 
that  I  had  not  only  enough,  but  five  over."  * 

In  1853  eight  candidates  had  gone  through  their  four 
years'  course  of  study  at  the  mission  school.  They  were  to 
be  sent  to  the  eastern  coast  of  Africa.  But  how  were  they 
to  be  sent  ?  "  We  must  build  a  ship,"  said  Pastor  Harms, 
"  not  only  to  take  out  this  band,  but  also  to  take  out  succes- 
sive companies  of  Christian  teachers  and  colonists,  and  to  con- 
vey to  them  from  time  to  time  such  provisions  and  mechani- 
cal tools  as  they  may  need  for  their  health  and  for  their 
handicrafts  in  Africa."  Build  a  ship  ?  The  Herrmanns- 
burgers  had  never  seen  the  Atlantic  Ocean ;  they  lived  at  a 
distance  from  any  port  of  even  the  German  Sea ;  they  had  no 
money  to  build  a  ship ;  the  majority  of  them  had  never  seen 
a  ship.  But  "  Straight  forward  is  the  best  runner^  Pastor 
Harms  prayed  to  God.  From  various  directions  funds  came 
pouring  in  ;  the  ship  was  built ;  it  was  stored  with  provisions 
by  the  farmers  of  Herrmannsburg ;  and  there  has  seldom 
been  a  more  joyous  gala-day  than  the  18th  of  October,  1853, 
when  the  Candace  set  sail  from  Hamburg.  Fruits  and 
flowers,  grain  and  meats,  hoes,  ploughs,  and  harrows,  the 
long  brass  trumpets  and  other  instruments  of  music,  were 
put  on  board  ;  a  Christmas-tree  also,  as  the  missionaries  were 

*  Praying  and  "Working,  p.  365.     This  volume,  by  the  way,  is  not  always 
accurate. 


PASTOR  HARMS.  9 

expecting  to  keep  that  festival  on  the  ocean.  Tlie  report 
was  spread  at  one  time  that  the  Candace  was  sunk  and  lost. 
"  What  shall  we  now  do  ?  "  was  the  question  put  to  the  pastor ; 
and  his  reply  was,  "  Humble  ourselves,  confess  our  sins,  pray 
for  forgiveness,  and  huild  a  new  s/wjo."  But  the  report  was 
not  true.  The  ship  made  a  good  voyage,  and  is  still  on  the 
ocean,  is  still  beloved  as  if  it  were  a  living  herald,  having 
transported  more  than  fifty  missionaries  and  more  than  a 
hundred  colonists.  They  have  now  eight  or  nine  mission 
stations  in  Africa ;  more  than  forty  thousand  acres  of  land 
appropriated  to  the  missionary  service  ;  more  than  a  hundred 
baptized  converts.  Preachers  have  also  gone  from  the  school 
at  Herrmannsburg  to  Australia,  to  the  East  Indies,  and  to 
the  Western  States  of  our  own  country.  The  journals  of 
these  missionaries  are  sometimes  like  a  romance. 

In  1854  Pastor  Harms  felt  the  need  of  diffusing  missionary 
intelligence  more  extensively  among  his  countrymen.  He 
therefore  formed  the  plan  of  establishing  a  missionary  journal. 
But  how  shall  we  publish  one,  so  far  from  any  large  town  ? 
"  Let  us  have  a  printing-press  on  the  Heath,"  was  his  reply. 
Accordingly  a  printing-office  was  opened  at  Herrmannsburg  ; 
the  Missionary  Journal  was  commenced,  and  in  less  than 
eight  years  it  attained  a  circulation  of  fourteen  thousand,  —  a 
larger  circulation  than  any  periodical,  except  two,  in  all  Ger- 
many. It  is  still  continued,  and  abounds  with  spirit-stirring 
essays  from  Pastor  Harms,  and  racy  letters  from  his  mission- 
aries. The  children  of  many  a  Christian  family  in  Prussia, 
in  Wiirtemburg,  in  Hesse  Cassel,  welcome  this  monthly  jour- 
nal as  tlie  most  entertaining  of  their  books  for  the  Sabbath.  It 
awakens  a  lively  interest  in  behalf  of  the  school  at  Herr- 
mannsburg. At  the  annual  missionary  festival  in  June, 
which  continues  two  days  in  this  quiet  village,  six  thousand 
persons  come  together,  some  from  the  most  distant  parts 
of  German}',  and  engage  in  religious  festivities,  charming 
and  certain  parts  of  them  appearing  almost  romantic.  Every 
missionary  student  becomes  a  musician,  and  learns  to  play 


10  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

the  long  brass  trumpet  of  Germany ;  and  as  the  procession  of 
these  students  marches  through  the  village,  playing  an  old 
psalm-tune  on  these  powerful  instruments,  the  effect  is  thrill- 
ing upon  the  strangers  who  have  come  to  the  missionary 
festival. 

Besides  editing  his  mission  journal,  and  devoting  so  much 
care  to  the  mission  school.  Pastor  Harms  has  published  sev- 
eral volumes  of  sermons,  and  a  large  number  of  miscellane- 
ous, and  some  political  pamphlets.  How,  then,  does  he  provide 
for  his  pulpit  ?  The  most  remarkable  feature  of  his  life  is 
manifested  on  the  Sabbath.  I  spent  three  Sabbaths  with  him 
in  the  autumn  of  1863.  I  supposed,  for  a  time,  that  his 
parish  was  then  in  a  state  of  special  religious  excitement.  I 
asked,  "  How  long  has  this  excitement  continued?"  "About 
seventeen  years,"  was  the  reply ;  "  ever  since  Pastor  Harms 
has  been  among  us."  I  was  assured  that  the  exercises  on 
these  three  Sabbaths  were  fair  specimens  of  his  ordinary  ser- 
vices in  the  sanctuary,  but  that  they  were  far  less  imposing 
til  an  his  services  at  the  great  festivals  of  the  Church,  Good 
Friday,  Easter,  Christmas,  and  at  the  Missionary  Jubilee  in 
June.  The  cliaracter,  then,  of  Pastor  Harms  may  be  best 
delineated  by  describing  his  usual  method  of  conducting  his 
Sabbath  worship.     A  single  day  is  a  specimen  of  the  year. 

I  went  into  the  old  church  at  half  after  nine  in  the  morn- 
ing. The  service  did  not  begin  until  half  after  ten ;  but  the 
throng  of  worshippers  was  so  great  that  it  was  necessary  for 
strangers  to  go  an  hour  beforehand,  in  order  to  obtain  an 
eligible  seat.  The  house  was  filled  long  before  the  ringing 
of  the  church-bell.  At  the  first  stroke  of  the  bell,  the  audi- 
ence rose  and  offered  a  silent  prayer.  When  the  pastor  en- 
tered, the  audience  rose  again,  with  as  much  apparent  awe  as 
if  John  the  Baptist  were  risen  from  the  dead,  and  had  come 
into  this  church  of  the  wilderness.  His  first  appearance  was 
that  of  a  man  worn  down  with  care  and  thought.  His  chest 
was  narrow,  his  form  bent,  his  face  pale,  and  an  indescribable 
solemnity  marked  his  countenance.    He  stood  leaning  against 


PASTOR   HARMS.  11 

the  altar,  for  lie  seemed  too  weak  to  keep  himself  erect  with- 
out support.  He  commenced  the  service  by  chanting  a 
prayer  in  a  low,  tremulous  tone  ;  and  yet  the  thousand  wor- 
shippers who  thronged  the  pews,  galleries,  aisles,  and  stairs 
preserved  such  a  stillness  that  he  could  be  heard  in  every 
nook  and  corner  of  the  house.  After  the  singing  of  a  hymn 
by  the  congregation,  he  commenced  the  exposition  of  a  Psalm. 
He  recited  every  verse  memoriter,  and  explained  it  with  sin- 
gular felicity.  Having  spent  a  half-hour  in  his  exposition, 
he  took  his  Bible  and  read  the  entire  Psalm  with  such  em- 
phasis as  to  recall  his  previous  comments.  The  ordinance 
of  baptism  was  then  administered  to  several  infants,  all  born 
since  the  preceding  Sabbath ;  and  the  sponsors  were  ad- 
dressed with  peculiar  fervor.  The  congregation  sang  an- 
other hymn ;  and  then  the  pastor  ascended  the  pulpit,  and 
read  his  text,  the  audience  rising  as  he  read  it ;  after  giving 
a  rich  exposition  of  the  text,  he  announced  the  subject  of  his 
discourse  ;  then  offered  an  earnest  prayer ;  stated  the  several 
divisions  of  his  sermon ;  illustrated  and  enforced  each  of 
these  topics  with  singular  clearness ;  his  voice  often  rising  to 
the  highest  notes,  even  to  a  shriek,  and  sometimes  breaking 
so  as  to  become  painful  by  its  shrillness. 

In  one  of  his  discourses  he  said :  "  A  few  days  ago,  a  man 
came  to  me,  asking, '  What  shall  I  do  to  be  saved  ? '  I  told 
him,  '  Believe.'  He  replied,  '  What  shall  I  believe  ?  '  'Do 
you  not  know  ? '  I  answered.  '  Is  it  enough  for  me,'  he 
asked,  '  to  believe  all  that  the  Bible  says  ?  '  '  No,'  I  answered. 
'  Is  it  enough  that  I  believe  all  that  the  Bible  a7id  the  cate- 
chism teach  ?  '  '  No,'  I  answered  ;  '  you  must  believe  more.' 
'  What  more  ?  '  he  asked  again.  I  told  him,  '  You  must  not 
only  say,  as  the  Bible  and  catechism  tell  you,  I  believe 
that  an  atonement  has  been  made,  but  you  must  say,  I  be- 
lieve that  the  atonement  has  been  made  for  me.'  "  As  the 
Pastor  added  this  last  word,  7ne,  his  voice  would  have  piercecl 
the  ear  of  every  hearer  in  the  largest  cathedral.  His  sharp 
emphasis  and  his  penetrating  tones  kept  his  auditors  awake. 


12  HOUSEHOLD   READING. 

in  despite  of  the  deadening  atmosphere  of  his  ill-ventilated 
church. 

He  studied  to  use,  and  he  did  use,  the  language  of  the 
common  people  ;  he  quoted  apt  and  racy  proverbs,  sometimes 
made  a  sarcastic  remark,  occasionally  provoked  a  smile,  was 
terrific  in  his  denunciations  of  popular  sins,  and  exhibited  the 
tenderest  concern  for  his  people,  and  the  general  interests  of 
truth.  He  preferred  the  concrete  to  the  abstract,  did  not 
speak  of  holiness  so  often  as  of  God,  nor  of  sin  so  often  as  of 
the  Devil.  His  main  power  lay  in  his  lively  style,  the  quick- 
ness of  his  transitions,  the  boldness  of  his  personifications, 
his  clearness  of  thought,  his  rich  stores  of  Biblical  knowl- 
edge, the  constant  variety  of  his  ministrations,  and  his  strik- 
ing exhibitions  of  faith  in  Divine  Providence,  and  especially 
in  the  redemptive  scheme.  Whenever  I  heard  him,  he  closed 
his  discourse  with  an  appeal  solemn  so  as  to  be  in  a  good 
sense  awful. 

After  his  sermon  he  offered  an  extemporaneous  prayer. 
Although  he  was  eminently  liturgical  in  his  spirit,  yet  he 
seldom  confined  himself  to  the  liturgy  of  his  Church,  —  very 
often  he  made  but  very  little  use  of  it,  —  and  his  free  utter- 
ances in  supplication  were  remarkable  sometimes  for  their 
terseness,  and  sometimes  for  their  childlike  simplicity.  On 
one  Sabbath  he  prayed,  "  Bless  our  dear  seminary,  all  its 
teachers  and  pupils,  and  all  the  missionaries  who  have  gone 
from  it  to  the  lands  far  away.  Bless  our  missionary  ship. 
Bless  all  the  dear  children  who  have  been  baptized  to-day, 
and  their  parents.  Bless  the  children  in  our  schools,  and 
their  teachers.  Bless  all  this  people ;  the  young  and  the  old. 
Bless  the  carpenter,  the  tradesman,  the  farmer.  Bless  the 
harvest.  Bless  the  cattle.  Bless  the  hees.^^  I  asked  a  noble- 
man who  had  come  to  hear  him  from  Wiirtemberg,  "  Is  it 
common  to  pray  for  the  bees  of  Liineberger  Heath  ? "  His 
quick  reply  was,  "  What  Pastor  Harms  does,  that  call  not 
thou  common." 

After  the  prayer  came  the  administration  of  the  Lord's 


PASTOR   HARMS.  13 

Supper.  This  ordinance  is  administered  every  Sabbath  to 
about  two  hundred  of  the  communicants.  The  church  con- 
sists of  about  two  thousand,  each  one  of  whom  partakes  of 
the  supper  four  or  five  times  in  the  year.  On  each  of  the 
three  Sabbaths  of  my  visit  I  saw  about  seventy-five  males 
and  about  a  hundred  and  twenty-five  females  unite  in  the 
celebration.  The  females  were  attired  in  a  peculiar  garb, 
appropriate  to  the  ordinance.  By  far  the  larger  part  of  the 
worshippers,  perhaps  nine  tenths,  who  came  into  the  church, 
remained  to  witness  the  sacramental  feast.  The  galleries  and 
the  stairs  remained  crowded  with  spectators.  The  pastoi' 
chanted  the  words  of  the  Institution,  and  although  his  voice 
was  harsh,  yet  the  effect  of  his  tones  was  subduing.  The 
entire  audience  seemed  to  be  melted.  The  awe  depicted  on 
their  countenances  indicated  that  it  was  perhaps  mingled 
with  superstition.  The  people  were  dismissed  at  ten  minutes 
after  two,  the  whole  service  having  continued  three  hours  and 
forty  minutes. 

At  a  quarter  after  three  in  the  afternoon  the  old  stone 
sanctuary  was  filled  again,  though  with  a  somewhat  different 
congregation.  First  came  the  congregational  singing ;  then 
the  chanting  of  a  prayer  by  the  Pastor.  He  next  spent  about 
half  an  liour  in  expounding  a  chapter  of  the  New  Testament, 
first  repeating  the  verses  memoriter,  and  explaining  each  verse 
as  he  proceeded,  and  then  reading  the  entire  cliapter,  giving 
to  every  word  a  rich  suggestiveness.  He  had  committed  to 
memory  large  portions,  —  it  was  said  that  he  had  learned  by 
heart  the  whole  of  the  Bible, — but  he  was  always  particular 
to  read  what  he  had  previously  recited  without  the  book.  He 
judged  that  the  occasional  reading  is  rhetorically  more  im- 
pressive than  the  mere  reciting  of  the  sacred  text,  and  that  at 
certain  times  the  ajjpearanee  of  reading  is  more  oratorical 
than  the  appearance  of  speaking  memoriter  or  extempore.  Af- 
ter a  second  animated  congregational  song,  he  began  to  cate- 
chise the  audience.  He  walked  slowly  from  the  altar  to  the 
porch,  addressing  questions,  at  the  very  top  of  his  voice,  to 


14  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

the  children  and  adults,  at  the  right  hand  and  the  left  of  the 
broad  aisle.  The  congregation  was  one  immense  Bible-class. 
One  woman  gave  a  wrong  reply  to  his  question ;  the  Pastor 
looked  at  her ;  she  began  to  weep.  One  boy  made  a  sad 
blunder  ;  the  Pastor  looked  at  him,  and  made  a  long  pause, 
and  then  boxed  his  ears.  A  theological  student  missed  the 
answer  ;  there  was  a  marked  silence,  —  but  no  corporeal  chas- 
tisement. Pastor  Harms  was  often  very  affectionate  in  his 
manner  of  questioning  the  children,  was  patient  under  the 
slight  mistakes  of  the  men  and  women  ;  but  whenever  he 
discovered  signs  of  signal  remissness,  he  was  as  severe  as 
John  the  Baptist.  He  closed  the  service  with  the  responsive 
singing  of  the  men,  women,  and  children,  and  with  one  of 
his  beautiful,  extemporaneous  prayers,  and  dismissed  the 
large  assembly  at  a  quarter  after  six.  The  service  continued 
three  hours,  beginning  with  the  daylight  of  the  afternoon, 
but  continuing  during  the  last  hour  with  the  light  of  lamps 
and  candles  which  the  worshippers  brought  with  them.  It 
was  a  scene  for  a  painter. 

It  was  common  for  strangers  to  come  from  a  distance,  in 
order  to  attend  divine  service  at  Herrmannsburg  ;  counts 
and  countesses  were  often  seen  among  the  peasants  in  the 
congregation.  The  strangers  went  from  the  church  to  the 
parsonage,  and  partook  of  a  slight  repast  with  Pastor  Harms 
and  his  family.  He  was  never  married,  but  lived  with  his 
sister,  a  finely  educated  lady.  We  were  engaged  in  busy 
conversation  around  the  table,  when  suddenly  the  hum  sub- 
sided, for  the  Pastor  was  entering  the  room.  He  came  with 
his  long  pipe  in  his  mouth,  craved  the  blessing,  sat  down, 
drank  two  cups  of  coffee,  ate  not  a  morsel,  but  continued 
smoking  his  pipe,  and  saying  not  one  word.  After  sitting 
twenty  minutes  at  the  table,  his  guests  conversing  with  each 
other  in  low  tones,  if  at  all,  he  rose,  returned  thanks,  and  left 
the  .room,  all  eyes  being  fixed  on  him  as  he  walked  out. 

At  seven  o'clock  he  went  into  the  large  hall  of  the  parson- 
age, and  delivered  a  practical  sermon  in  the  Low  German 


PASTOR   HARMS.  15 

(the  patois)  dialect,  to  about  two  hundred  of  the  villagers. 
He  read  his  text  from  a  folio  Low  German  Bible,  presented 
him  by  the  King  of  Hanover.  As  soon  as  he  had  closed  the 
sermon,  he  began  his  weekly  concert,  somewhat  resembling 
our  monthly  concert  of  prayer  for  missions.  He  read  letters 
from  his  missionaries  in  the  East  Indies,  in  Australia  and  in 
America,  all  addressing  him  as  "  Dear  Father."  The  disclos- 
ures in  these  letters  concerning  the  United  States  were  quite 
similar  to  the  disclosures  concerning  the  Zulus.  Some  of 
the  peasants  cast  side  glances  at  me,  as  they  had  heard  that 
I  belonged  to  one  of  the  tribes  to  which  they  were  annually 
sending  missionaries.  While  some  of  oiir  divines  seldom 
speak  of  Germany  except  in  terms  of  disparagement,  it  was 
interesting  to  see  that  the  peasants  of  Herrmannsburg  were 
intent  on  evangelizing  our  divines  as  well  as  our  lay  breth- 
ren. It  was  indeed  a  sublime  spectacle,  these  humble  Chris- 
tians on  a  secluded  heath,  manifesting  such  a  personal  interest 
in  the  four  quarters  of  the  globe,  and  coming  into  intimate 
relations,  through  their  pastor,  with  Egypt  and  Missouri,  the 
black,  the  copper-colored,  and  the  white  races.  It  was  obvi- 
ous that  Pastor  Harms  had  his  hand  upon  all  the  continents 
of  the  earth.  At  the  close  of  this  delightful  service,  each 
member  of  the  congregation  went  up  to  him,  shook  his  hand, 
and  bade  him  "  good  night."  "  May  the  Redeemer  bless 
you,"  was  his  parting  word  to  several  who  appeared  to  be  in 
tears. 

At  ten  o'clock  in  the  evening,  about  twenty  of  the  neigh- 
bors and  strangers  went  to  the  parsonage,  in  order  to  unite 
with  the  good  man  in  his  family  devotions.  This  service  con- 
tinued one  hour.  The  assembly  sung  a  hymn  ;  the  Pastor 
read  a  chapter  of  the  Bible,  and  expounded  it  without  look- 
ing from  the  book.  I  supposed  that  he  was  reading  from  a 
printed  commentary,  so  choice  and  exact  was  his  language ; 
but  I  afterwards  learned  that  it  was  an  extemporaneous  ex- 
position. He  offered  a  lengthened  but  affecting  prayer.  His 
lungs  wheezed,  so  that  it  was  painful  to  hear  him ;  still  we 


16  HOUSEHOLD  KEADING. 

forgot  our  pains  while  we  were  listening,  his  thoughts  were 
so  fresh  and  good.  Two  clergymen  were  present,  one  of 
them  an  eminent  Lutheran  divine  ;  hut  he  did  not  ask  either 
of  them  to  utter  a  word. 

Several  countesses  from  different  parts  of  Germany  and 
Russia  were  wont  to  spend  a  large  part  of  the  year  at  Herr- 
mannsburg,  partly  for  the  purpose  of  attending  the  daily 
evening  exercise  of  family  prayer  at  the  parsonage.  It  was, 
in  fact,  a  dail^  prayer-meeting,  and  had  been  continued  about 
seventeen  years.  The  parsonage  was  considered  as  open 
every  evening,  from  ten  until  eleven  o'clock,  for  all  the  vil- 
lagers who  might  desire  to  spend  that  hour  in  a  religious 
service. 

After  having  been  engaged  more  than  nine  hours  of  the 
Sabbath  in  public  or  social  worship.  Pastor  Harms  repaired 
to  his  study.  His  custom  was  to  spend  twelve  hours  every 
day  over  his  books  or  correspondence.  In  the  course  of  the 
year  he  wrote  about  three  thousand  letters,  —  to  his  distant 
parishioners,  to  his  fifty  missionaries,  and  to  the  friends  who 
sent  their  contributions  to  the  mission  cause.  He  seldom 
retired  to  rest  before  two  or  three  o'clock  at  night.  His 
printer  and  publisher  told  me  :  "I  was  printing  a  volume  of 
his  sermons,  and  I  went  to  him  on  a  Saturday  evening,  and 
stated  that  I  must  have  '  more  copy '  on  Monday  morning. 
He  replied  (for  he  never  would  make  me  a  definite  prom- 
ise'), 'I  have  no  more;  I  do  not  know  that  I  can  send  you 
any  more  so  soon.'  But,  after  the  services  on  the  Sabbath,  he 
wrote  an  entire  sermon,  not  on  the  subject  of  his  discourses 
during  the  day,  and  not  on  any  subject  which  he  had  ever 
preached  upon,  but  an  entirely  new  sermon  ;  and  his  manu 
script  did  not  contain  a  single  interlineation  or  erasure.  His 
copy  seldom  contained  one.  He  sent  the  sermon  to  me  on 
Monday  morning."  Such  statements  may  appear  incredible  ; 
but  Pastor  Harms  was  so  afflicted  with  a  painful  disease  that 
he  was  sometimes  unable  to  sleep  an  hour  during  the  whole 
night.     He  refused  to  take  an  opiate  ;  and  intellectual  labor 


PASTOR  HARMS.  17 

became  Lis  main  relief.     Perhaps  this  may  be  some  ajtology 
for  his  imprudence  in  taxing  his  resources. 

Sometimes  it  appears  unaccountable  that  he  could  live  so 
long,  and  labor  at  all,  with  such  an  ill-advised  physical  regi- 
men ;  but  his  faith  in  God,  and  especially  his  faith  in  prayer, 
sustained  his  body  as  well  as  his  soul.  His  faith  gave  him 
power  with  men.  His  character  was  itself  eloquence.  If  he 
was  a  monarch  in  his  parish,  it  was  the  monarchy  of  princi- 
ple. He  often  made  remarks  which  appear  extravagant ;  but 
he  made  them  with  such  sincerity  and  fervor  that  the  very 
boldness  of  them  became  itself  a  force.  Three  times  I  heard 
him  say,  from  the  altar  of  his  church :  "  The  parents  who 
neglect  to  offer  their  children  to  God  at  the  baptismal  altar, 
within  eight  days  after  the  children's  birth,  are  worse  than 
robbers  and  murderers ;  for  robbers  take  merely  the  material 
wealth,  and  murderers  take  merely  the  temporal  life,  of  their 
victims  ;  but  such  parents,  so  far -as  in  them  lies,  deprive  their 
children  of  spiritual  wealth,  and  of  eternal  life ;  for  it  is  in 
baptism  that  the  Holy  Ghost  is  given  to  the  children."  In 
addressing  the  communicants  at  the  Wednesday  lecture,  he 
said  :  "  When  I  pronounce  you  forgiven,  you  are  forgiven  in 
heaven  ;  and  when  I  refuse  to  declare  your  sins  remitted, 
the  remission  of  them  is  refused  in  heaven."  Once  I  heard 
him  say  from  the  pulpit :  "  Our  dear  Lord  suffered  the  real 
pains  of  hell ;  and  he  would  have  been  even  now  suffering 
the  same,  had  he  not  prayed,  '  Let  this  cup  pass  from  me  ! ' 
He  begged  ;  and  the  Apostle  says,  '  He  was  heard,  in  that  he 
feared.'  In  the  fifth  verse  of  Luther's  translation  of  the 
Eighth  Psalm  it  is  said  of  our  Redeemer,  '  Thou  hast  caused 
him  to  be  forsaken  of  God  for  a  short  time.'  Now  when  God 
forsakes  a  man,  the  forsaken  one  is  in  hell.  Yet  was  our 
Lord  there  but  a  short  time.  Still,  for  him  to  bear  the  pains 
of  hell,  even  during  one  minute,  was  a  greater  suffering,  yea, 
a  thousand-fold  greater,  than  for  all  other  men  to  endure 
them  during  a  whole  eternity  ;  for  this  was  the  suffering  of 
God  himself.     When  the  Jews  slew  him,  they  slew  God."     I 

2 


18  HOUSEHOLD   BEADING. 

asked  one  of  his  more  intelligent  parishioners,  "  Do  his  hear- 
ers believe  such  statements  ?  "  His  answer  was,  "  They  be- 
lieve in  the  main  what  the  Pastor  teaches,  but  do  not  rise  with 
him  into  all  his  inspirations.^^ 

He  had  some  peculiar  views  on  the  subject  of  insurance 
companies.  He  said :  "It  is  wrong  for  a  farmer  to  insure 
liis  crop  against  the  hail-storm,  or  against  any  strictly  Provi- 
dential evil ;  although  it  is  right  for  him  to  insure  his  barn  or 
house  against  fire,  for  the  fire  may  be  the  result  of  man's 
carelessness."  Still  he  did  not  allow  his  Seminary  buildings 
to  be  insured  against  fire ;  he  believed  that  God  would  pro- 
tect them,  in  answer  to  his  children's  entreaties. Several 

years  ago,  when  the  Queen  of  Hanover  died,  a  form  of  prayer 
was  prescribed  by  the  ministry,  and  the  pastors  were  ordered 
to  offer  it  in  their  churches.  The  prayer  alluded  to  the  piety 
of  the  Queen,  in  terms  which  Pastor  Harms  did  not  approve. 
He  refused  to  read  it ;  no  influences  from  the  crown  could 

intimidate  him. When  he  published  the  intentions  of 

marriage  between  his  parishioners  he  occasionally  stated 
which  of  the  betrothed  parties  had  a  good  character,  and 

which  of  them  had  7iot. He  was  very  strict  in  his  Lu- 

theranism,  and  refused  to  admit  the  members  of  the  Prussian 
Church  to  the  Lord's  Supper,  as  that  church  was  formed  by 
a  union  of  the  Lutheran  and  the  Reformed.  He  abhorred 
compromises.  He  would  thus  exclude  from  the  table  of  his 
church  such  men  as  Neander,  and  even  Hengstenberg.  He 
was  terrific  in  his  denunciations  of  Calvinism.  I  stood  with- 
in five  yards  of  him,  and  heard  him  in  one  sermon  pour  forth 
the  most  powerful  invectives  against  the  Calvinistic  doctrines, 
the  Congregational  Church  polity,  the  republican  form  of 
government  in  the  state,  with  special  allusion  to  America. 
It  was  a  faithfid  discourse.  I  admired  his  zeal  and  true- 
lieartedness.  He  expressed  the  same  opinion  about  America 
which  many  of  our  divines  express  about  Germany. 

But  with  all  this  fidelity  in  reproof,  and  with  an  imperturb- 
able reserve  of  manner  toward  men  who  interfered  with  his 


PASTOR   HARMS.  19 

Studies,  lie  combined  a  genuine  kindliness  of  feeling.  "When 
he  thought  it  right  for  him  to  thaw  out  his  icy  manners,  he 
was  gentle  and  childlike,  full  of  wit  as  well  as  intelligence. 
He  was  a  great  favorite  at  wedding  festivals,  and  sometimes 
indulged  in  an  inimitable  humor  with  his  guests.  He  in- 
spired a  love  as  well  as  reverence  for  him.  I  can  never  for- 
get the  affecting  tones  and  the  hearty  words  with  which  he 
bade  me  his  last  farewell :  "  I  do  not  trouble  myself  about 
such  matters  as  my  health  of  body.  It  is  true  that  I  am  suf- 
fering much  every  day,  and  more  every  night.  I  do  not  wish 
it  to  be  otherwise.  The  Saviour  is  my  physician  ;  I  desire  no 
other.  I  love  to  lie  awake  through  the  entire  night,  because 
I  can  then  commune  with  Him.  I  should  not  be  happy,  if  I 
thought  that  I  was  to  be  kept  much  longer  in  the  world. 
0,  that  would  be  a  sad  thought,  —  to  be  kept  away  from  home 
so  long !  I  am  glad  to  have  heard  so  much  about  Andover 
and  New  England  ;  I  had  formed  a  different  opinion  of  your 
country.  I  rejoice  that  you  observe  the  Lord's  Day  so  well 
in  New  England.  Hold  fast  this  good  old  usage.  And  now 
I  shall  never  see  you  again.  May  the  Lord  be  ever  gracious 
to  you !  Farewell,  —  farewell !  "  Thus  I  took  my  leave  of 
this  plain-spoken,  outspoken  man,  with  the  feeling  that  I  had 
seen  greater  scholars  than  he,  more  genial  and  mellow  Chris- 
tians than  he  ;  but  I  never  saw  a  man  so  wonderful,  so  much 
like  a  being  of  another  world  and  a  superior  race. 


20  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 


LET    ME    GO. 

"I'm  weary,  I'm  weary,  let  me  go  home! " 

Dying  words  of  Neansbb. 

I'M  weary,  weary,  let  me  go ! 
For  now  the  pulse  of  life  declineth ; 
My  spirit  chicles  its  lingering  flow, 
For  her  immortal  life  she  pineth. 

I  feel  the  chill  night-shadows  fall, 

The  sleep  steals  on  that  knows  no  waking; 

Yet  well  I  hear  blest  voices  call. 

And  bright  above  the  day  is  breaking. 

Not  now  the  pui'ple  and  the  gold 

Of  trailing  clouds  at  sunset  glowing. 
These  dim  and  fading  eyes  behold ; 

But  splendors  from  the  Godhead  flowing. 

'T  is  not  the  crimson  orient  beam, 

O'er  mountain-tops  in  beauty  glancing ; 

Light  from  the  throne  !  a  flooding  stream  ! 
'T  is  the  Eternal  Sun  advancing ! 

As  oft,  when  waked  the  summer  morn, 

Sweet  breath  of  flowers  the  breezes  bore  me, 

In  this  serener,  fairer  dawn, 

Perfumes  from  Paradise  float  o'er  me. 

As  when,  by  sultry  heats  oppressed, 

I  've  sought  still  shades  cool  waters  keeping. 

So  long  I  for  that  holier  rest, 

Where  heaven's  own  living  streams  are  sweeping. 

The  joy  of  life  hath  been  to  stand 

With  spirits  noble,  true,  confiding ; 
O  joy  unthought,  —  to  reach  the  band 

Of  spotless  souls  with  God  abiding ! 


THE   JOUKNEY'S  END,  21 

Ye  loved  of  earth !  —  this  fond  farewell, 

That  now  divides  us,  cannot  sever ; 
Swift  flying  years  their  round  shall  tell, 

And  our  glad  souls  be  one  forever ! 

On  the  far-off  celestial  hills, 

I  see  the  tranquil  sunshine  lying ; 
And  God  himself  my  spirit  fills 

With  perfect  peace  ;  —  and  this  is  dying  ! 

Methinks  I  hear  the  rustlino;  wings 

Of  unseen  messengers  descending. 
And  notes  from  softly  trembling  strings, 

With  myriad  voices  sweetly  blending. 

O  thou,  my  Lord  adored !  this  soul 

Oft,  oft  its  warm  desires  hath  told  thee ; 
Now  wearily  the  moments  roll. 

Until  these  waiting  eyes  behold  thee. 

Ah,  stay  my  spirit  here  no  more. 

That  for  her  home  so  fondly  yearneth ; 
There  joy's  bright  cup  is  brimming  o'er. 

There  love's  pure  flame  forever  burneth ! 


THE    JOURNEY'S    END. 

WE  have  read  of  caravans  of  pilgrims,  who,  after  months 
of  weary  travel,  approach  tlie  Holy  City.  They  have 
been  drenched  by  storms,  burned  by  blazing  suns,  pinched 
with  hunger,  and  choked  with  the  dust  of  the  desert.  Tlieir 
shoes  are  worn  out,  their  garments  soiled  and  tattered,  their 
feet  blistered ;  and  their  tottering  limbs  can  hardly  sustain 
their  steps.  Through  days  of  suffering,  and  nights  of  sleep- 
lessness, and  constantly  assailed  by  merciless  foes,  they  have 


22  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

toiled  along,  until  now  they  approach  the  end  of  their  pil- 
grimage. 

The  sun,  breaking  through  the  clouds  of  a  lurid  day,  is 
just  sinking  behind  the  hills  of  Lebanon.  The  pilgrims  as- 
cend an  eminence,  and  lo,  Jerusalem  is  before  them !  Its 
turrets,  towers,  pinnacles,  and  domes  all  ablaze  in  golden 
splendor,  reflecting  the  rays  of  the  setting  sun.  A  scene  of 
almost  supernatural  enthusiasm  ensues. 

"  Jerusalem,  Jerusalem !  "  is  shouted  from  hot  and  blis- 
tered lips.  "  Jerusalem,  Jerusalem !  "  is  re-echoed  through 
the  long  lines  of  the  rear.  The  lame,  the  fainting,  the  dying 
are  animated  with  new  life,  as  they  rush  forward,  to  catch  a 
glimpse  of  that  sacred  city  where  their  Saviour  bled  and 
died. 

Tears  gush  from  all  eyes.  Some,  overwhelmed  with  joy- 
ous emotion,  prostrate  themselves  upon  the  ground,  and 
breathe  a  silent  prayer  of  gratitude  and  thanksgiving.  Some 
throw  their  arms  into  the  air  and  shout  wildly,  in  the  out- 
bursting  of  their  rapture,  "  Hallelujah,  Hallelujah."  All 
past  fatigues,  perils,  sufferings,  are  forgotten.  Their  pilgrim- 
age is  ended,  their  goal  is  gained. 

But  0,  when  the  pilgrim  of  earth,  weary  of  the  long,  pain- 
ful, perilous  journey,  arrives  within  sight  of  the  celestial  city, 
—  a  sight  so  brilliant  that  no  mortal  eye,  undazzled,  can  look 
upon  it,  —  as  he  gazes  upon  the  splendor  of  the  metropolis 
of  God's  empire,  and  listens  to  the  music  of  its  choirs,  and 
knows  that,  in  that  city,  the  Saviour  has  a  mansion  prepared 
for  him,  with  robe,  with  harp,  and  crown,  and  that  he  there 
shall  repose  in  peace  forever,  can  language  tell  his  joy  ?  The 
imagination  sinks  exhausted  in  the  vain  attempt  to  compass 
such  blessedness. 


DRAW,   NOT  DRIVE.  '   23 


DRAW,    NOT    DRIVE. 

SOMEWHAT  more  than  thirty  years  ago  a  very  special 
religious  interest  prevailed  in  nearly  all  the  churches  of 
our  order  in  a  sister  State.  Pastors,  evangelists,  and  private 
Christians  were  generally  busy  in  gathering  the  spiritual  har- 
vest. One  small  village,  however,  snugly  nestled  between 
the  hills,  seemed  an  exception  to  this  almost  universal  quick- 
ening, as  no  conversions  were  reported  within  its  limits. 
Tarrytown  seemed  to  be  "  left  out  in  the  cold." 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  your  people  ?  "  was  asked  of  the 
pastor,  Mr.  G ,  as  he  met  a  brother  minister  one  day. 

"  They  are  all  determined  to  go  to  perdition,"  was  the 
sharp  answer.  "  I  've  hammered  away  at  them  all  winter  ; 
but  they  don't  seem  to  heed  it.  The  most  terrible  pictures 
which  I  can  paint  of  the  guilt  and  condemnation  of  the  sin- 
ner do  not  drive  a  single  soul  to  the  refuge  ;  and  I  am  well- 
nigh  discouraged.  I  wish  you  would  preach  for  me  half  a 
day  to-morrow,  Mr.  N ." 

"  I  can  help  you  in  the  afternoon,  if  that  will  suit  you, 

Brother  G ,  as  my  own  pulpit  will  be  supplied  by  an 

agent." 

"  Come  by  all  means,"  was  the  response. 

"  What  is  your  own  theme  to-morrow  ?  "  inquired  Mr. 
N as  they  parted. 

"  One  of  the  most  solemn  which  I  could  find.  Brother 
N :  God  a  consuming  fire  to  the  ungodly." 

Mr.  G 's  clerical  brother  pondered  deeply  that  evening 

upon  the  state  of  things  at  Tarrytown,  and  sought  Divine 
aid  in  the  selection  of  his  message  for  the  coming  day.  He 
suspected  that  Mr.  G had  dwelt  too  long  and  too  con- 
stantly upon  the  severer  themes  of  the  Bible  ;  that  he  had 
exhibited  its  warnings  arid  threatenings  almost  to  the  exclu- 
sion of  its  invitations  and  promises  ;  and  thus  had  made  re- 


24  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

ligion  too  much  a  thing  of  gloom  and  fear.  So  he  resolved 
to  try  the  power  of  the  Gospel  allurements,  —  to  draw  rather 
than  drive. 

When  he  entered  the  Tarrytown  pulpit,  his  suspicions  were 
confirmed  by  the  general  aspect  of  the  congregation.     The 

people  looked  goaded  and  sullen.     Mr.  N announced  his 

text,  —  2  Cor.  v.  11,  —  "  Knowing  therefore  the  terror  of 
the  Lord,  we  ijersuade  men." 

He  told  his  audience  that  he  had  not  come  to  abate  the 
force  or  to  lessen  the  severity  of  the  Bible  denunciations 
against  sin  and  impenitence  ;  but  rather,  under  a  full  con- 
viction of  their  truth  and  justness,  to  show  them  the  way  of 
escape,  and,  if  possible,  persuade  them  to  embrace  it. 

So  he  held  up  before  them  three  wondrous  pictures  of  the 
grace  and  mercy  of  God.  First,  the  counsels  of  the  Godhead, 
in  view  of  the  foreseen  guilt  and  ruin  of  men,  planning  the 
amazing  scheme  of  their  recovery  and  salvation, —  the  Father 
laying  upon  his  only  and  well-beloved  Son  the  burden  of  a 
world's  redemption,  —  the  '•'on,  with  tender  compassion  and 
eager  love,  saying  cheerfully,  "  Lo,  I  come  to  do  Thy  will,  0 
God  !  "  —  and  the  Holy  Spirit  pledged  to  his  renewing  and 
sanctifying  work. 

Next,  the  entrance  of  the  blessed  Redeemer  upon  his  life 
of  self-sacrifice,  his  holy  instructions,  his  tender  invitations, 
his  perfect  example,  his  cheerful  endurance  of  poverty,  hu- 
miliation, and  persecution,  his  death  of  agony,  his  glorious 
resurrection  and  return  to  his  heavenly  home. 

Last,  the  results  of  that  wondrous  plan  of  saving  love,  — 
the  proffer  of  a  Saviour  so  freely  made  to  the  guilty  and  the 
lost ;  the  promise  of  salvation  to  all  who  would  seek  it  in  the 
appointed  way ;  the  offer  of  all  needed  help  and  grace ;  and 
the  Holy  Spirit's  blessed  strivings  with  the  heart  and  con- 
science of  the  sinner,  by  which  those  who  heeded  them  were 
sweetly  led  to  Christ. 

As  these  touching  and  beautiful  pictures  of  Gospel  grace 
were  successively  held  up  to  the  sight  of  his  hearers,  Mr. 


WINGS,   SOME  DAY,  25 

N saw  the  careless  aroused,  the  indifferent  interested, 

and  the  sullen  melted.  And  when  he  made  a  personal  appli- 
cation of  his  subject,  by  entreating  wandering  Christians  to 
return  to  their  neglected  duties  and  their  forsaken  God,  and 
with  tones  of  love  and  tears  of  pity  pleaded  with  the  impeni- 
tent to  come  to  Jesus,  the  Holy  Ghost  went  from  heart  to 
heart,  making  the  word  preached  "  a  savor  of  life  unto  life." 

The  pastor,  Mr.  G ,  listened  to  his  brother's  discourse 

with  bowed  head  and  folded  hands  ;  and  when  the  services 
were  closed,  and  he  saw  his  people,  silent  and  tearful,  going 
softly  out,  he  grasped  Mr.  N 's  hand  warmly  and  thank- 
fully, with  a  hearty  acknowledgment  of  his  error. 

"  I  see  my  fault,  now,  dear  brother,"  he  said,  —  "I  see 
what  was  the  trouble.  I  was  trying  to  drive  my  hearers  to 
heaven,  instead  of  seeking  to  draw  them  '  with  cords  of  love, 
and  with  the  bands  of  a  man.'  Henceforth,  I  will  remember 
that  it  is  sometimes  better  to  draw  than  to  drive. ''^ 


WINGS,    SOME    DAY. 

jASSENGERS  on  board  of  one  of  the  many  ferry-boats 
that  are  constantly  plying  between  the  opposite  shores 
of  the  Mersey  may  occasionally  see,  on  warm,  bright  days,  a 
poor  crippled  boy,  whose  body  has  grown  to  almost  man's 
size,  but  whose  limbs,  withered  and  helpless,  are  still  those 
of  a  child. 

He  wheels  himself  about  on  a  small  carriage,  similar  to 
that  the  boys  use  in  play  ;  and  while  the  little  boat  threads 
its  way  among  the  ships  of  all  nations  that  are  anchored  in 
the  river,  he  adds  not  a  little  to  tlie  pleasure  of  the  sail  by 
playing,  on  his  concertina,  airs  that  show  no  mean  degree  of 
musical  skill.  The  few  pennies  that  he  always  receives,  but 
does  not  ask  for,  are  never  grudgingly  bestowed,  and  are 


26  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

given  not  more  in  pay  for  the  music  than  for  the  simple  hon- 
esty that  shines  in  the  boy's  blue  eyes. 

One  so  helpless,  it  would  seem,  could  only  be  a  burden  to 
those  who  loved  him,  —  could  certainly  do  nothing  towards 
fulfilling  the  command,  "  Bear  ye  one  another's  burdens." 
Was  it  so  ?  Was  there  no  service  of  love  for  the  lame  boy, 
no  work  for  him  in  the  vineyard  ?  The  question  was  an- 
swered one  day. 

"Walter,"  said  a  gentleman  who  had  often  met  him,  "how 
is  it,  when  you  cannot  walk,  that  your  shoes  get  so  worn 
out  ? " 

A  blush  came  over  the  boy's  pale  face  ;  but,  after  hesitat- 
ing a  moment,  he  said,  — 

"  My  mother  has  younger  children,  sir  ;  and  while  she  is 
out  washing,  I  amuse  them  by  creeping  about  on  the  floor 
and  playing  with  them." 

"  Poor  boy  !  "  said  a  lady  standing  near,  not  loud  enough, 
as  she  thought,  to  be  overheard,  "  what  a  life  to  lead  !  what 
has  he  in  all  the  future  to  look  forward  to  ?  " 

The  tear  that  started  in  his  eye,  and  the  bright  smile  that 
chased  it  away,  showed  that  he  did  hear  her.  As  she  passed 
by  him  to  step  on  shore,  he  said  in  a  low  voice,  but  with  a 
smile  that  went  to  her  heart,  — 

"  I  'm  looking  forward  to  have  wings  some  day,  lady  !  " 

Happy  Walter  !  Poor  cripple,  and  dependent  on  charity, 
yet  doing,  in  his  measure,  the  Master's  will,  and  patiently 
waiting  for  the  future  !  he  shall  by  and  by  "  mount  up  with 
wings  as  eagles,  shall  run  and  not  be  weary,  shall  walk  and 
not  faint." 


H 


THE   CROOKED   DISCIPLE.  27 


THE    CROOKED    DISCIPLE. 

B  was  born  crooked,  and  there  was  no  such  thing  as 
straightening  him.  "Well  had  it  been  for  him  had  this 
deformity  appertained  only  to  the  outer  man  ;  but,  alas  !  the 
crook  was  within,  twisting  his  spirit,  cramping  his  mind,  and 
also  marking  his  manners.  His  poor  mother  could  never 
fathom  the  mysteries  of  his  odd  nature,  never  decide  upon 
just  the  right  way  to  train  him.  Sometimes  she  fancied  he 
required  a  more  stringent  hand  than  did  his  brothers,  and 
again  that  "  his  was  a  temper  that  could  not  be  driven.''^  So, 
between  alternate  strictness  and  indulgence,  Qur  hero's  tem- 
per was  doubly  twisted  and  snarled. 

At  school  he  stood  aloof  from  all,  and  became,  at  play-time, 
almost  as  much  a  fixture  in  the  yard  as  the  old  pump  against 
which  he  leaned,  looking  suspiciously  at  his  merry  compan- 
ions. If  any  one  asked,  "  Why  don't  you  play  ?  "  he  replied, 
with  a  lugubrious  face,  and  a  mournful  whine,  "  Nobody 
wants  to  play  with  me."  Boys  rarely  have  time  to  coax  each 
other  to  be  happy,  —  alas !  how  few  men  ever  turn  out  of  their 
chosen  way  to  ask  the  cause  of  another's  dejection  !  —  so  they 
hooted,  shouted,  and  whistled  ;  flew  their  kites,  bowled  their 
balls,  and  sailed  their  tiny  barks  ;  leaving  him  the  privilege 
of  growing  fast  to  the  pump,  if  he  chose  to  do  so.  If  there 
was  but  one  unoccupied  seat  in  the  school-room,  it  was  sure 
to  be  in  the  same  form  with  his.  He  expected  to  be  shunned ; 
the  other  boys  to  be  repulsed  ;  and  thus  our  crooked  youth 
grew  up  to  be  a  crooked  man. 

He  married,  and  then  everybody  who  knew  his  wife 
thought  he  would  be  obliged  to  be  happy,  in  spite  of  himself. 
Not  he  ;  he  had  maintained  his  ground  too  long  to  give  it  up 
on  so  slight  a  cause  !  When  congratulated  on  being  the 
choice  of  so  worthy  a  maiden,  he  mournfully  replied,  "  She 
did  n't  choose  me  ;  she  took  me  because  she  could  n't  get  the 


28  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

schoolmaster.''^  He  was  then  told  that  she  declined  an  offer 
from  that  dignitary,  for  his  sake ;  he  said,  "  Well,  then,  I  sup- 
pose she  was  afraid  she  would  never  have  another  ;  and  girls 
will  marry  anybody  rather  than  be  old  maids."  Her  friends 
all  felt  that  she  was  completely  blindfolded  by  Cupid's  bond- 
age, for  no  other  reason  could  be  given  for  a  cheerful,  noble- 
hearted  woman's  linking  herself  to  one  with  his  uncomfort- 
able peculiarities.  At  school  she  used  to  pity,  while  others 
ridiculed  him ;  that  pity  had  ripened  into  love.  When  his 
first  son  was  born  he  said  very  little.  He  did  not  accuse  him 
of  making  his  advent  from  some  sinister  motive  ;  for  he, 
poor  innocent,  made  no  pretensions  to  disinterestedness.  But 
when  in  little  more  than  a  year  another  boy  followed,  he 
really  looked  wounded  as  if  the  world  could  not  hold  babies, 
unless  he  were  crowded  out  to  make  room  for  them.  When 
asked  to  name  the  young  intruder,  he  drew  a  deep  sigh,  and 
said,  "  I  suppose  we  may  as  well  call  him  Gad." 

The  hopeful  wife  rejoiced  in  these  dear  gifts  of  God  and 
said,  "  If  they  grow  up  to  be  good  men  they  will  be  a  bless- 
ing to  us  and  to  the  world."  "  0,  but  there  's  the  if  in  the 
way ! "  croaked  out  the  father ;  and  then  in  the  spirit  of 
prophecy  he  foretold  the  trouble  and  noise  and  expense  they 
would  bring  before  they  grew  up.  We  need  not  tell  parents 
that  these  were  fulfilled  with  a  minuteness  which  amazed  the 
seer  himself.  They  were  roguish,  noisy,  thoughtless,  and 
boylike,  bent  on  getting  all  the  fun  they  could  out  of  life. 
When  he  saw  these  propensities,  he  shook  his  head,  say- 
ing, "  These  boys  are  very  much  like  their  mother  !  "  And 
so  they  were  in  their  hopeful,  cheerful,  and  generous  spirits. 
She  was  one  of  those  meek,  enduring  creatures  with  whom 
a  merciful  Heaven  almost  invariably  links  such  men.  Noth- 
ing could  irritate,  nothing  discourage,  and  nothing,  short  of 
positive  harshness,  wound  her.  "  Bearing  all  things,"  was  a 
prominent  article  in  her  creed.  She  wept  all  her  grief  away 
in  a  secrecy  as  sacred  as  that  in  which  she  prayed.  No 
neighbor,  no,  not  her  own  mother,  ever  heard  from  her  lips 


TH£   CROOKED   DISCIPLE.  29 

that  her  husband  was  not  faultless.  She  did  really  win  the 
love  and  respect  of  the  crooked  man,  and  after  four  or  f  ve 
years'  companionship  he  was  half  tempted  to  tell  her  and  the 
world  so ;  but  he  did  n't  want  to  be  so  much  like  his  good 
neighbors.  He  had  said  he  should  never  be  happy,  and  did 
not  want  to  contradict  himself. 

Notwithstanding  everything  and  everybody  were  against 
him,  he  succeeded  before  middle  life  in  laying  up  a  com- 
petency ;  and,  to  make  sure  that  fraud  should  not  take  what 
sagacity  had  earned,  he  resolved  to  retire  from  business,  —  a 
false  step  for  a  restless  man.  Now,  as  every  one  feared,  mat- 
ters grew  worse  with  him.  Having  more  leisure  than  he 
knew  what  to  do  with,  he  began  to  meddle  with  things  quite 
out  of  his  sphere.  Household  affairs  were  all  wrong.  Break- 
fast came  too  late  ;  and  when  his  patient  wife  ordered  it  early, 
then  there  was  no  reason  in  driving  a  man  of  leisure  out  of 
bed  like  a  day-laborer !  The  furnace  made  the  house  too  hot, 
the  grates  kept  it  too  cold.  If  friends  came  often,  "  com- 
pany was  a  bore  "  ;  if  seldom,  "  it  was  for  ceremony,  not  for 
friendship." 

Under  such  circumstances,  many  a  good  woman  would 
have  felt  bound  to  accuse  her  husband  of  unkindness ;  but 
the  sole  rebul:e  of  this  wife  lay  in  the  strong  contrast  be- 
tween her  own  life  of  thankfulness  and  peace,  and  his  of 
ingratitude  and  discontent.  But  her  time  to  speak  came  at 
length.  Would  that  every  Christian  woman  watched  for  the 
right  time  ;  then  would  they  oftener  save  their  irreligious  hus- 
bands. 

Tlie  autumn  of  a  bounteous  year  smiled  upon  them,  but 
nothing  was  right  with  the  crooked  man.  "  The  grass  is  n't 
near  so  heavy  as  it  promised  to  be,  and  my  man  has  found 
five  diseased  potatoes  in  the  acre  he  has  dug.  It 's  going  to 
be  a  hard  winter ;  indeed,  times  are  hard  enough  already ! 
I  don't  know,  for  my  part,  what  the  world  is  coming  to ! 
Everything  goes  wrong,"  he  said  for  the  twentieth  time. 

"  My  dear,"  asked  his  wife  in  a  tone  of  gentleness,  "  did  it 


80  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

ever  strike  you  that  something  might  be  wrong  in  you;  that 
your  own  heart  might  be  impure,  and  tinge  with  its  dark  hue 
all  around  you,  and  especially  the  good  things  which  God  and 
not  you  have  showered  upon  us  ? " 

The  crooked  man  started.  Could  it  be  that  the  patient, 
affectionate  woman,  who  for  long  years  had  gratified  all  his 
whims,  had  dared  to  rebuke  him  ?  These  few  simple  words 
were  as  nails  in  a  sure  place,  and  God  suffered  her,  who  had 
so  long  and  so  uncomplainingly  carried  the  cross,  to  lay  it 
down ;  while  with  his  own  soft  hand  he  wiped  away  those 
secret  tears,  and  placed  a  crown  of  joy  upon  her  brow.  Her 
husband  became  a  new  man ;  not  free  from  all  his  natural 
oddities,  but  yet  a  "  new  man,"  in  the  sight  of  Him  "  who 
knoweth  our  frame,  who  remembereth  that  we  are  dust." 

Now,  when  it  was  noised  abroad  that  the  crooked  man  had 
become  straight,  the  world  expected  too  much.  They  looked 
to  see  him  who  from  the  cradle  had  been  silent  and  morose 
become  suddenly  as  tender  and  winning  as  John  when  on 
his  Master's  bosom ;  to  see  the  brow,  lined  with  care  and 
discontent,  shine  like  that  of  the  Redeemer  on  the  Mount  of 
Transfiguration.  Even  Christians,  who  knew  the  struggles 
through  which  he  was  passing,  expected  to  see  the  new-born 
soul  a  full-grown  man  at  once,  the  "  saved-so-as-by-fire  "  an 
almost  sanctified  disciple.  In  this  they  were  all  disappointed ; 
he  was  yet  "  in  the  flesh,"  yet  vexed  by  his  besetting  sins. 
This  the  world  saw,  and  cried,  "  What  do  ye  more  than 
others  ?  "  but  they  did  not  see  the  inward  struggle,  nor  hear 
the  secret  groan,  "  0  wretched  man  that  I  am ! "  Many  fore- 
told his  fall  and  watched  for  his  halting,  but  after  long 
months  they  were  obliged  to  admit  that,  although  still  crooked, 
he  was  now  a  crooked  disciple.  They  saw,  and  he  felt,  the 
change,  —  "  the  Spirit  witnessing  with  his  spirit  that  he  was 
born  of  God." 

Through  many  doubts,  and  in  much  fear  of  self,  our  poor 
friend  lived  several  years  after  this  change.  His  efforts  to 
live  the  life  of  a  Christian  were,  as  one  has  well  expressed  it, 


DEATH  BY  EDIFICATION.  31 

"  all  rowing  up  stream,  against  both  wind  and  tide  "  ;  and 
yet  he  rowed  on  manfully  to  the  end.  His  natural  defects, 
nurtured  by  injudicious  training,  and  habits  which  had  be- 
come as  second  nature,  were  as  so  many  quicksands,  threat- 
ening his  frail  bark  with  destruction.  True,  his  course  was 
sometimes  irregular  and  fitful,  and  he  was  censured  by  those 
who,  standing  on  shore,  knew  neither  the  strength  of  the  cur- 
rent nor  the  weakness  of  his  arm.  But  there  was  One  who, 
though  himself  holy  and  undefiled,  bore  with  all  his  crooked 
ways,  and  guided  his  weary  spirit  into  the  desired  haven. 
That  Friend  stood  by  him  in  his  mortal  hour,  placing  beneath 
him  the  everlasting  arms ;  and  should  toe  come  off  conquer- 
ors, we  may  yet  greet  him  in  the  land  of  love,  without  spot 
or  wrinkle  or  any  such  thing. 

Why  cannot  fallen  man  bear  with  his  erring  brother  as 
does  He  who  knew  no  sin  ?  It  is  because  self-righteousness 
blinds  us.  We  see  the  mote  against  which,  perhaps,  he  is 
praying  and  struggling,  while  the  beam  in  our  own  eye  may 
give  us  little  trouble,  —  may  be  cherished  as  some  precious 
thing,  —  a  darling  sin,  with  which  we  may  fear  to  part.  0 
for  that  charity  which  cometh  from  above  !  Let  us  fall  into 
the  hands  of  God  rather  than  of  man. 


DEATH    BY    EDIFICATION. 

ALMOST  everything  good  is  capable  of  being  used  in 
excess,  perverted,  misapplied,  so  as  to  be  injurious 
rather  than  useful.  Edification  is  not  an  exception.  What 
is  "  good  to  the  use  of  edifying  "  is  not  good  for  everything, 
and  may  not  be  what  is  at  all  times  needed.  In  many  of  our 
churches  there  is  great  misapprehension  as  to  the  object  of 
prayer-meetings,  —  social  meetings  as  we  call  them.  Manj 
Christians  seem  to  think  the  object  is  to  teach,  to  give  in- 


32  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

struction,  to  make  and  hear  religious  speeches,  in  connection 
with  two  or  three  prayers,  and  singing.  And  so  most  neither 
pray  nor  speak,  for  the  reason,  as  they  say,  that  others  can  do 
it  better,  more  to  edification. 

Now  this  is  an  entire  misapprehension  of  the  object ;  and 
the  tendency  is  iiyurious.  We  have  a  social  nature,  and  our 
religion  should  l^c  socially  manifested  and  developed,  for 
mutual  encouragement,  comfort,  and  strength.  We  want  to 
hear  our  brethren  pray,  and  speak  of  their  views  of  practical 
Christian  truths ;  we  want  to  know  how  their  courage  is  kept 
up ;  what  it  is  that  steadies  their  hope,  and  sustains  their 
faith,  —  the  working  of  Christian  feeling  and  life  in  them. 
The  object  is  not  so  much  to  get  or  give  instruction  as  to 
stir  the  feelings  and  encourage  each  other  by  prayers  and 
words  which  show  the  working  of  Christian  pi:inciples  and 
hopes.  This  is  practically  one  of  the  most  effectual  ways  of 
edifying.  It  greatly  edifies  a  minister,  it  helps  him  to  hear 
the  brethren  pray,  and  to  notice  by  their  remarks  what  inter- 
ests them  and  helps  them  on  as  Christians.  And  to  him  it 
is  often  a  grief,  a  sad  discouragement,  that  he  hears  so  few  of 
his  brethren  pray  or  speak  in  the  prayer-meeting,  where  all 
meet  on  common  ground  and  with  a  common  interest. 

The  special  object  here  is  not  exposition,  doctrine,  instruc- 
tion. Our  church-members  would  have  become  apostles,  if 
these  could  have  made  them  so.  They  are  stuffed  and  stupe- 
fied with  them,  like  a  man  eating  three  dinners  a  day.  The 
prayer-meeting  is  designed  mutually  to  encourage  and  aid 
each  other  in  practical  Christian  life.  And  two  or  three  facts 
are  worthy  of  notice. 

One  is  this :  Unconverted  persons,  young  people,  like  to  go 
to  prayer-meetings  when  many  take  part  in  prayer  and  short 
remarks,  rather  than  to  those  where  the  minister  and  two  or 
three  others  do  the  whole.  This  is  the  fact.  No  matter  how 
able  the  minister  is,  no  matter  how  well  he  and  one  or  two 
others  speak,  as  to  use  of  language  and  scope  of  thought. 
There  is  to  them,  and  must  be,  a  sameness,  a  stiffness,  a  kind 


DEATH  BY  EDIFICATION  33 

of  formality  about  it,  which  does  not  interest  so  much  as 
when  the  meeting  is  freer,  and  spontaneous  prayer,  and  a  few 
words,  are  heard  from  several.  No  careful  observer  can  fail 
to  see  and  admit  that  this  certainly  is  the  general  fact.  And 
it  is  surprising  that  we  do  not  profit  more  by  the  hint  it  gives 
us.  If  we  would  secure  the  attendance  and  interest  of  the 
young  and  unconverted,  this  shows  how  it  is  to  be  done. 

Another  fact  is :  Christians  in  a  quickened  and  revived 
state  do  not  think  so  much  of  this  edification.  Now,  when 
they  go  into  the  prayer-meeting,  it  is  with  no  expectation  of 
making  some  excellent  remarks,  nor  to  listen  to  those  who 
can  speak  the  best,  —  not  at  all ;  but  to  pour  out  their  warm 
hearts  in  prayer  with  and  for  their  friends  ;  to  speak  a  word 
for  Christ,  and  stir  the  feelings  and  hearts  of  others  if  they 
may.  It  is  a  state  of  mind  very  different  from  this  chronic 
habit,  this  morbid  appetite  for  edification.  And  the  effect 
both  on  themselves  and  others  is  very  different. 

Another  fact  is:  Prayer-meetings,  sustained  only  by  the 
minister  and  two  or  three  others,  are  not  best  for  the  Church. 
The  experiment  has  been  tried  long,  and  in  a  great  many 
places,  but  results  have  shown  that  such  churches  are  not 
practically  the  strong  ones.  Strong  they  may  be  in  Avealth, 
in  numbers,  in  intelligence  ;  but  strong  and  vigorous  as  work- 
ing churches,  as  practical,  aggressive  Christian  forces  and 
influences,  they  are  not.  Many  weaker  and  feebler  ones  are 
stronger.  No  minister  whose  eyes  have  been  open,  and  who 
has  had  twenty  years  of  experience  and  observation,  can  fail 
to  see  and  admit  the  fact.  And  the  reason  is  as  obvious  as 
the  fact.  A  few  have  acted  for  the  whole.  Many  have  done 
nothing,  tried  to  do  nothing,  but  to  sit  still,  and  be  instructed 
and  edified.  The  life,  the  feeling,  the  faith  and  hope,  the  ex- 
perience cff  the  whole,  have  not  been  contributed  for  the  bene- 
fit of  each ;  and  in  point  of  fact,  it  will  be  found  that  the 
ready  working  ones  have  really  got  most  instruction  and  edi- 
fication, and  by  a  certain  law  of  growth.  As  a  man  may  eat 
more  than  he  can  digest,  and  more  than  ministers  to  his 

3 


34  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

strength,  so  these  silent,  hearing  disciples,  who  want  nothing 
but  instruction  and  edification,  really  do  not  get  it  so  much 
as  others. 

Many  a  poor  and  feeble  church  —  with  preaching  only  a 
part  of  the  time,  benefited  it  may  be  by  poverty  and  weak- 
ness, compelled  and  determined  to  stand  close  to  each  other, 
each  ready  and  resolved  to  do  his  part  —  can  be  pointed 
to  to-day,  whose  members  do  vastly  more  for  each  other, 
and  exert  a  far  greater  comparative  Christian  influence  on 
the  population,  than  is  true  of  larger  and  stronger  churches 
who  are  so  content  to  be  edified.  It  may  well  be  doubted 
whether  many  silent  disciples  in  our  prayer-meetings  would 
not  really  be  benefited  by  being  deprived  of  their  privileges, 
provided  they  could  be  roused  to  the  responsibility  and  ac- 
tivity of  witnesses  for  Christ.  Then  they  would  do  better  for 
themselves  and  for  others.  Is  it  right,  is  it  just  to  Christ 
and  his  Church,  to  withhold  now  ?  Brother,  this  means  you. 
Too  many  Christians  and  churches  are  now  pining  by  being 
edified.  And  of  too  many,  a  true  verdict  and  an  honest 
epitaph  would  be,  —  Died  of  Edification. 


ANGLO-SAXON    WHITTLING    SONG. 

"  Yotir  Yankee  is  always  to  be  found  with  a  jackknife,  and  when  he  has  nothiuo 
else  to  do,  is  eternally  whittling."  —  Growling  Old  Traveller. 

IN  the  olden  time  of  England,  the  days  of  Norman  pride, 
The  mail-clad  chieftain  buckled  on  his  broadsword  at  his  side, 
And,  mounted  on  his  trusty  steed,  from  land  to  land  he  strayed, 
And  ever  as  he  wandered  on,  he  whittled  with  his  blade. 
O,  those  dreamy  days  of  whittling. 

He  was  out  in  search  of  monsters,  —  of  giants  grim  and  tall ; 
He  was  hunting  up  the  griffins,  —  the  dragons  great  and  small ; 
He  broke  in  through  the  oak  doors  of  many  a  castle  gate, 
And  what  he  whittled  when  within,  't  is  needless  to  relate. 
0,  those  foolish  days  of  whitthng. 


ANGLO-SAXON  WHITTLING   SONG.  35 

But  when  the  pomp  of  feudal  pride  like  a  dream  had  passed  away, 
And  everywhere  the  knightly  steel  was  rusting  to  decay, 
The  common  people  drew  their  blades  in  quite  another  cause, 
And  in  the  place  of  giants  grim,  they  whittled  up  the  laws. 
O,  those  stern  old  days  of  whittling. 

They  whittled  down  the  royal  throne,  with  all  its  ancient  might. 
And  many  a  tough  old  cavalier  was  whittled  out  of  sight; 
They  whittled  off  the  king's  head,  and  set  it  on  the  wall. 
They  whittled  out  a  Commonwealth,  but  it  could  not  last  at  all. 
O,  those  fiery  days  of  whittling. 

There  came  across  the  stormy  deep  a  stern  and  iron  band, 
A  solemn  look  on  every  face,  —  their  hatchets  in  their  hand ; 
They  whittled  down  the  forest  oak,  the  chestnut  and  the  pine, 
And  planted  in  the  wilderness  the  rose-tree  and  the  vine. 
O,  those  fearful  days  of  whittling. 

They  made  themselves  a  clearing,  and  housed  their  little  freight, 
Then  put  their  Sunday  coats  on,  and  whittled  out  a  state ; 
They  cut  it  round  so  perfectly,  they  whittled  it  so  "  true," 
That  it  still  stands  in  beauty  for  all  the  world  to  view. 
0,  those  grand  old  days  of  whittling. 

When  England  sent  her  hirelings,  with  cannon,  gun,  and  blade. 
To  break  and  batter  down  the  state  which  these  good  men  had  made, 
The  people  seized  for  weapons  whatever  came  to  hand. 
And  whittled  these  intruders  back,  and  drove  them  from  the  land. 
O,  heroic  days  of  whittling. 

In  men  of  Saxon  blood  it  stays  —  this  love  of  whittling  —  still, 
And  something  must  be  whittled,  to  pacify  the  will ; 
When  the  old  wars  were  over,  and  peace  came  back  again. 
They  took  to  whittling  mountains,  and  filling  vale  and  glen. 
O,  those  peaceful  days  of  whittling. 

They  whittled  out  the  railroad  path  through  hill  and  rock  and  sand. 
And  sent  their  snorting  engines  to  thunder  through  the  land ; 
Sails  whitened  all  the  harbors,  the  mountain  valleys  stirred. 
And  the  hum  and  roar  of  labor  through  all  the  land  was  heard. 
0,  those  busy  days  of  whittling. 


36  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

But  there  long  had  dwelt  among  us  a  gaunt  and  hideous  "Wrong, 
Set  round  with  ancient  guaranties,  with  legal  ramparts  strong, 
With  look  and  tone  defiant,  it  feared  not  God  or  man. 
But  snatched  on  every  side  for  power  to  work  its  wicked  plan. 
All  ripe  and  dry  for  whittling. 

Of  old  this  Wrong  was  humble,  asking  with  pious  cry, 
This  only,  to  be  left  alone,  in  its  own  time  to  die ; 
But,  fed  by  this  first  yielding,  bolder  and  bolder  grown, 
Shameless  before  the  nations  now,  it  reared  its  bloody  throne. 
The  time  draws  nigh  for  whittling. 

"  Pride  goes  before  destruction,"  the  wise  man  said  of  old ; 
"Whom  the  gods  seek  to  ruin  they  first  make  mad"  and  bold; 
In  the  frenzy  of  its  madness,  this  Wrong  forgot  its  place. 
Came  out  with  noise  of  gongs  to  fright  our  Yankee  whittling  race. 
God  gave  this  chance  for  whittling. 

And  now,  my  trusty  Saxons,  who  come  from  near  and  far, 
Remember  who  your  fathers  were,  and  set  your  teeth  for  war; 
"  Sword  of  the  Lord  and  Gideon,"  be  still  your  battle-cry. 
And  strike  as  Samson  struck  of  old,  smite  Slavery  hip  and  thigh. 
Now  is  your  time  for  whittling. 

And  when  the  land  shall  rest  again  from  all  this  noise  and  strife, 
And  Peace  her  oUve-branch  shall  wave  o'er  this  broad  realm  of  life. 
Fair  as  the  sun  our  nation  before  the  world  shall  stand. 
Freedom  on  all  her  banners,  freedom  throughout  the  land. 
0,  these  grand  rewards  of-  whittling. 


KITTY'S   REBELLION.  37 

KITTY'S    REBELLION. 

A    TEUE    STORY. 

ONE  sultry  summer's  afternoon,  some  seventeen  years  ago, 
little  Kitty  ran  in  from  her  play  for  a  drink  of  the  cool 
lemonade  which  stood  on  the  table. 

^''Please,  mamma,"  said  her  mother,  as  she  turned  the  glass. 

"  Kitty  tan'4  say  pease,"  replied  the  little  maid. 

Now  Kitty  had  said  "  pease  "  a  hundred  times,  and  usually 
delighted  in  saying  everything  she  was  told.  She  quite  rev- 
elled in  conversational  powers  for  a  year-and-a-half-old.  For 
the  first  time  in  her  short  life  she  had  taken  a  notion  that  she 
would  not  do  as  she  was  bid.  So  her  mother  set  the  glass 
down  again  untasted,  and  the  child  ran  back  to  her  doorstep 
as  thirsty  as  before.  But  it  was  very  warm,  and  presently 
the  little  feet  came  pattering  back,  and  the  thirsty  red  lips 
were  put  up  again  for  a  drink. 

"  Kitty  say  please." 

"  Tan't  say  pease."     So  the  baby  went  away  thirsty  again. 

This  experiment  was  repeated  perhaps  a  dozen  times  in  the 
course  of  the  afternoon,  at  first  playfully  as  it  seemed;  but  as 
the  wee  rebel  began  actually  to  suffer  from  heat  and  thirst 
rather  than  say  "  please,"  it  became  a  rather  serious  question 
how  long  she  would  hold  out. 

Supper-time  came,  and  Pet  ran  to  her  high  chair. 

"  Mamma  lift  Kitty  up !  " 

"  Please,  mamma,  lift  Kitty,"  said  the  mother,  gently. 

Instantly  the  eager  little  face  fell.  Baby  shook  her  head, 
muttered,  "  Tan't  say  pease,"  and  turned  away.  Her  father 
and  mother  and  the  rest  of  the  children  sat  down  to  the  table ; 
but  who  could  eat  supper  while  that  poor  little  outlaw  stood 
back  by  the  wall  moaning  with  hunger  and  thirst?  The 
mother  yearned  to  take  her  in  her  arms  and  give  her  food 
and  drink ;  but  how  could  she  ?     The  little  one  knew  that 


38  HOUSEHOLD   READING. 

one  dutiful  word  would  bring  her  all  she  wanted,  yet  she  re- 
fused to  speak  it.  The  question  was  fairly  at  issue,  —  should 
the  child  obey  the  parents,  or  the  parents  submit  to  the 
child  ?  It  is  an  old  and  common  dilemma,  and  in  thousands 
of  households  the  child  carries  the  day ;  but  Mrs.  Hart  did  not 
believe  God  meant  that  to  be  the  order  of  the  world.  So  she 
took  her  baby  to  her  own  room,  and  set  before  her  very 
tenderly  and  seriously  her  naughty  behavior.  She  knelt 
down  and  prayed  the  Saviour  to  make  her  good  and  obedient ; 
but  after  it  all,  Kitty  did  not  "  say  pease  "  any  better  than 
before.  At  length,  distressed  and  tired  out  and  fairly  alarmed 
about  the  little  creature,  who  had  not  tasted  drink  since 
noon,  she  carried  her  to  her  father  and  begged  him  to  take 
the  case  in  hand.  Mr.  Hart  began  to  talk  with  the  young 
culprit,  playfully,  nothing  doubting  he  should  soon  bring  her 
round.  He  gave  her  a  great  many  words  to  speak,  which  she 
did  all  very  readily  till  the  fatal  please  came  along ;  that  she 
could  n't  do.  Year-and-a-half  understood  very  well  that  to 
say  that  was  to  submit.  So  he  grew  serious,  and  told  her  that 
he  should  have  to  whip  her  if  she  did  not  mind.  Now  Kitty 
and  whipping  were  two  things  never  thought  of  in  the  same 
breath  before.  She  had  always  been  an  uncommonly  sweet 
and  gentle  child,  and  nobody  had  ever  guessed  how  much 
grit  was  latent  in  that  soft  little  bosom.  Nothing  else  would 
avail,  however,  and  the  whipping  had  to  come.  Still  the 
baby  remained  stout-hearted,  and  far  from  righteousness. 

Feverish  and  exhausted,  with  parched  lips  crying  for  drink, 
yet  inflexibly  refusing  to  speak  the  little  word  which  would 
bring  it,  she  was  put  to  bed  in  her  crib.  All  through  the 
warm  night  she  tossed  and  moaned  in  her  unquiet  sleep,  or 
woke  crying  from  thirst ;  but  even  then,  sleepy  and  miserable 
as  she  was,  she  would  only  sob,  "  Tan't  say  pease,"  when 
the  water  came  near.  For  the  father  and  mother,  that  was 
a  night  of  sleepless  wretchedness,  relieved  only  by  prayer. 
They  really  began  to  fear  that  the  child  would  sooner  die 
than  give  up. 


KITTY'S    REBELLION.  39 

•■'  0  psliaw !  never  mind  the  please ;  have  her  drmk," 
many  a  father  would  have  said.  "  Poor  little  thing  !  I  must 
let  the  minding  go  till  another  time,"  most  mothers  would 
have  thought ;  but  INIr.  and  Mrs.  Hart  did  not  see  it  so.  If 
it  was  like  death  for  a  will  to  yield  after  eighteen  months' 
growth,  what  would  it  be  after  months  and  years  of  indul- 
gence ?  God  had  committed  to  them  this  soul  of  his  creat- 
ing, to  be  trained  for  himself.  If  she  could  not  be  made  to 
obey  her  father  whom  she  had  seen,  how  should  she  become 
obedient  to  her  Father  in  heaven  whom  she  had  not  seen  ? 
The  very  fact  that  her  will  was  so  strong  made  it  the  more 
imperative  to  their  minds  that  it  should  be  brought  under  the 
control  of  her  conscience ;  they  saw  what  a  cruel  tyrant  it 
would  prove  if  left  to  hold  sway.  The  longer  the  struggle  was 
protracted,  the  more  likely  it  seemed  that  the  result  would 
be  a  final  one,  and  the  more  important  that  it  should  be 
right.  Then  the  other  children  who  had  been  watching  this 
new  phase  of  family  history  with  a  kind  of  solemn  dread,  — 
should  they  learn  that  the  authority  they  had  been  taught  to 
revere  could,  after  all,  be  trodden  under  the  feet  of  a  baby  ? 
It  would  not  do.  It  had  been  clearly  explained  to  the  little 
one  that  it  was  her  Heavenly  Father's  command  that  she 
should  obey  her  parents,  and  that  she  was  resisting  his  will ; 
that  father  and  mother  felt  that  they  had  no  right  to  annul 
his  law.  So  the  night  wore  away,  and  the  morning  broke  ; 
but  it  brought  no  peace  to  the  household,  weighed  down  by 
the  perverseness  of  its  young  rebel.  She  woke  worn  and 
almost  sick,  but  stubborn  as  ever. 

Free  will  indeed !  "What  a  grand,  awful  mystery  it  is  ! 
How,  shrined  in  a  dainty,  delicate  morsel  of  flesh,  it  can  look 
out  and  defy  the  world !  Terrible  agent  of  evil !  Glorious 
worker  of  good !  Kingliest  power  in  creation  !  —  a  sover- 
eign human  will !  What  wonder  heaven  and  hell  contended 
for  little  Kitty's  will.  So  they  do  for  every  one.  Happy  the 
child  whose  parents  steadfastly  keep  the  right  side  in  the 
conflict ! 


40  HOUSEHOLD   READING. 

Kitty  found  an  ally  in  the  morning.  A  woman  who  occii- 
pied  the  adjoining  tenement,  having  learned  the  state  of 
things  from  the  children,  came  in  to  plead  for  her.  She  as- 
sured Mrs.  Hart  that  she  was  killing  the  child;  that  it  was 
downright  cruelty  to  treat  her  so  ;  that  if  she  had  a  little  girl, 
she  would  never  see  her  suffer  when  she  could  help  it.  All 
this  fell  on  a  sore  and  aching  heart.  The  mother  had  already 
been  tormented  with  fears  that  the  heat  and  thirst  and  ex- 
citement would  really  be  the  death  of  her  poor  dear  naughty 
little  darling.  She  tried  to  think  up  some  compromise  by 
which  Kitty  could  be  relieved  without  a  sacrifice  of  parental 
government.  At  last  she  quietly  placed  a  mug  of  milk  in  a 
low  chair,  and  left  the  little  girl  alone  in  the  room,  while  her 
father  and  mother  watched  her  unseen. 

They  saw  her  come  up  to  the  mug  and  press  her  hot  little 
bands  against  its  cool  sides  and  begin  to  raise  it  to  her  thirsty 
iips ;  then  suddenly  she  set  it  down  with  a  piteous  look,  and 
went  away  moaning.  It  was  a  cruel  battle  between  Desire 
and  Honor,  for  such  a  little  heart.  Again  and  again  the  lit- 
tle creature  would  come  up  and  look  wistfully  into  the  mug 
full  of  white  milk,  shake  her  head  mournfully,  and  turn 
away.  Kitty  would  not  slink  out  of  the  difficulty,  though 
her  parents  would  let  her ;  she  or  they  must  openly  surren- 
der. This  little  display  of  character  made  them  clearer  than 
ever  that  they  should  do  the  child  a  cruel  wrong  in  helping 
her  to  break  down  the  demands  of  her  own  conscience. 

In  the  course  of  the  morning  Mrs.  Hart  was  relieved  to 
see  the  family  physician  drive  up  to  the  door.  She  hastened 
to  tell  him  the  whole  story,  and  ask  whether  she  was  risking 
too  much.  He  advised  her  to  "  put  it  through ;  the  little 
thing  could  n't  stand  out  much  longer."  Moreover,  the  good 
doctor  straightway  conceived  a  little  stratagem  for  bringing 
her  to  terms.  It  was  a  great  treat  for  any  of  the  children  to 
ride  with  him,  and  one  to  which  Kitty  had  never  yet  arrived ; 
so  that  when  he  proposed  to  take  her  this  morning,  she 
flushed  up  with  delight,  and  began  to  caper  about  the  room 
in  high  glee. 


KITTY'S   REBELLION.  41 

"  Run  ask  your  mother  to  please  put  on  your  hat,  then," 
said  the  Doctor. 

Instantly  tlie  bright  little  face  faded  ;  she  had  lost  all  de- 
sire to  go  if  there  was  a  "  please  "  to  it.  So  that  expedient 
failed. 

It  was  getting  toward  noon  ;  nearly  twenty-four  hours, 
during  which  Kitty  had  tasted  neither  food  nor  drink.  Per- 
suasion and  authority  had  been  exhausted  upon  her,  and  still 
she  wandered  about  the  house,  a  wan,  disconsolate  little 
object,  often  crying,  but  obstinate  as  ever.  Almost  heart- 
broken to  see  her  so,  the  mother  took  her  in  her  arms  once 
more  and  carried  her  to  her  chamber.  Once  again  she 
showed  the  little  girl  how  wretched  her  wilfulness  was  mak- 
ing herself  and  all  the  rest,  and  how  it  was  grieving  the  dear 
Saviour.  Then  she  knelt,  and  with  strong  crying  and  tears 
implored  that  blessed  Spirit,  who  can  melt  every  heart,  to 
subdue  the  stubborn  will.  Suddenly  baby  threw  her  arms 
around  her  neck  and  burst  out,  — 

"  Pease,  jjease,  pease,  pease,  jyease,  pease  !  " 

The  grateful  mother  covered  her  with  tears  and  kisses,  and 
carried  her  down  to  the  sitting-room,  where  she  sprang  into 
her  father's  arms  crying,  "  Pease,  pease,  pease  !  "  as  if  she 
never  would  be  done.  Now  she  was  all  radiant  with  love  and 
peace.  The  other  children  came  running  in  to  hear  how  Kit- 
ty could  say  "  please."  She  was  ready  to  hug  and  kiss  every- 
body. The  whole  family  stood  around  laughing  and  crying, 
to  see  her  drink  her  cup  of  milk,  and  hardly  able  to  let  her 
alone  long  enough  to  do  it.  The  house  was  full  of  joy.  The 
battle  was  ended.  Right  had  triumphed.  It  had  been  a  ter- 
rible struggle,  but  it  was  once  for  all  ;  from  that  day  to  this, 
Kitty  Hart  has  shown  no  disposition  to  resist  rightful  author- 
ity. Her  will  was  not  "  'broken^''  —  that  is  an  ugly  phrase, — 
it  is  a  good  strong  will  yet ;  but  it  was  brought  under  her 
conscience.     It  was  rescued  from  being  mere  wilfulness. 

These  parents  had  tried  all  along  to  make  their  child  un- 
derstand that  to  resist  them  was  to  disobcv  her  Father  in 


42  HOUSEHOLD   READING. 

Leaven,  and  that  tins  was  the  head  and  front  of  her  offend 
hig.  As  time  went  on,  they  found,  to  their  thankful  surprise, 
reason  to  believe  that  she  had  understood  it  so  well  that  in 
yielding  to  them  at  last  she  had  also  submitted  herself  to 
Him.  Maturer  years  and  new  experience  deepened  and  de- 
veloped her  Christian  life,  but  it  never  seemed  necessary  for 
Kitty  to  be  converted  after  she  was  a  year  and  a  half  old.  It 
appeared  that  the  Redeemer  had  crot^ned  their  prayers  and 
fidelity,  and  ended  that  long  contest  by  changing  the  heart 
of  stone  to  a  heart  of  flesh,  and  sending  his  Spirit  into  it  cry- 
nig,  Abba,  Father  ! 

Ah,  these  crises  in  child-hearts  mean  more  than  we  think  I 
Eternal  issues  are  pending  when  we  little  dream  of  it ! 


THE    OLD    FOLKS    AT    HOME. 

AN  my  reader,  with  his  tenacious  memory,  tell  me  the 
first  time  he  heard  "  the  old  folks  "  spoken  of?  I  won- 
der what  they  did  for  "  old  folks  "  in  the  days  before  the 
flood,  when  a  man  at  one  hundred  was  a  mere  boy,  —  a  ten- 
year-old  boy  !  When  no  young  lady  could  get  through  her 
education,  and  be  introduced  into  society,  till  she  was  one 
hundred  and  seventy-five,  at  least !  When  no  one  could  be 
numbered  with  "  the  old  folks  "  under  six  hundred  or  six 
hundred  and  fifty  years  !  Did  "  the  old  folks  "  appear  then 
as  they  now  do  ?  Did  they  feel  as  they  now  do  ?  Most  like- 
ly ;  for  accordhig  to  the  tradition  of  the  Jews,  the  Lord  of- 
fered to  let  Methuselah  live  till  he  was  fifteen  hundred  years 
old,  if  he  would  build  himself  a  house  ;  but  the  old  gentle- 
man at  nine  hundred  and  sixty  respectfully  declined,  on  the 
ground  that  it  was  hardly  worth  all  that  trouble  for  only 
about  five  hundred  years  !  So  he  probably  lived  in  his  cave, 
and  felt  that  it  was  not  best  for  old  men  to  begin  new  proj- 


THE   OLD  FOLKS  AT   HOME.  43 

ects.  How  did  he  and  his  wife  feel  and  talk,  as  they  sat 
down  together  and  looked  backward  and  forward  ?  Doubt- 
less very  much  as  "  the  old  folks  "  now  feel  and  talk. 

One  of  the  beautiful  arrangements  of  our  Heavenly  Father 
is  seen  in  the  fact  that  every  period  —  infancy,  childhood, 
youth,  manhood,  and  age  —  has  a  golden  charm  attached 
to  each.  Each  phase  is  different  from  the  rest,  and  it  is 
hardly  possible  to  say  which  is  most  beautiful.  The  beauty, 
the  grace,  the  sunshine,  the  early  morning  chatter  of  young 
children  always  awakens  the  most  delightful  emotions.  The 
mischievousness  and  the  restlessness,  the  magnifying  every- 
thing seen  and  heard,  and  the  sweet  credulity  of  childhood  ! 
the  opening  new  worlds  of  vision,  the  rising  up  from  the 
ground  of  untold  air-castles,  the  rainbow  hopes  leaping  from 
the  chambers  of  the  imagination  of  youth !  the  sight  of  the 
parents  in  the  refined  home,  watching  over  and  training  up 
their  large  family  of  children,  each  one  needing  a  distinct 
discipline  and  training,  and  then  the  silver,  thoughtful,  al- 
most silent  and  solitary  days  of  the  aged  pair  !  which  is  most 
beautiful  ?     I  cannot  decide. 

I  am  now  thinking  of  an  aged  couple,  who  are  called  "  the 
old  folks,"  who  have  lived  together,  husband  and  wife,  in  the 
same  house,  over  fifty  years.  They  came  there  young,  san- 
guine, and  utterly  unable  to  conceive  what  they  would  pass 
through  in  fifty  years,  or  indeed  that  there  could  be  an  end 
to  half  a  century.  They  have  reared,  carefully  and  properly 
educated,  a  large  family  of  children.  These  have  all  gone 
from  them  now,  have  families  of  their  own,  and  are  filling, 
eacli,  an  important  place  in  society,  and  some  of  them  high 
posts  of  influence.  They  are  all  members  of  Christ's  Church 
in  the  order  of  their  parents.  And  so  "  the  old  folks  "  are 
left  alone, — just  as  they  started  in  life.  They  have  long 
worn  glasses ;  but  at  the  hour  of  family  worship,  they  take 
each  a  Bible  and  read  in  course  alternately,  two  verses,  —  just 
as  they  did  when  they  read  with  their  children.  Then  they 
sing  the  old  hymns,  though  the  voices  are  not  so  sweet,  or 


44  HOUSEHOLD   KEADING. 

the  pipes  of  the  organ  as  perfect  as  formerly.  They  live,  it  is 
plain,  from  incidental  remarks,  in  the  past,  the  present,  and 
the  future.  There  are  certain  things  that  they  seldom  speak 
of  even  to  one  another.  They  keep  all  the  playthings  which 
their  children  once  used,  —  ostensibly  for  their  grandchildren 
when  they  come  to  visit  them  ;  but  the  forms  that  they  see 
playing  with  them  are  those  of  their  own  dear  children,  who 
have  gone  from  them,  but  who  left  their  image  in  their  mem- 
ory. The  little  books,  and  even  the  little  shoes,  of  their" 
bright  and  early  dead,  are  carefully  laid  up  ;  and  though 
they  never  speak  of  them,  each  knows  that  they  are  precious 
mementos  of  the  past. 

But  to  see  how  careful  they  are  of  each  other  !  The  fires 
of  passion  have  all  burned  out,  the  beauty  and  freshness  of 
life  have  all  passed  away,  and  the  rich  harvests  of  time  have 
all  been  garnered.  But  no  lovers  could  be  more  tender 
toward  each  other.  If  either  is  absent,  the  time  is  anxious- 
ly measured  till  the  return,  and  the  footstep  on  the  threshold 
may  not  be  elastic  as  it  returns,  yet  the  ear  that  hears  it  and 
the  heart  that  hears  it  are  awake.  They  seem  to  understand 
each  other's  thoughts  without  words,  and  each  feels  that  life 
would  not  be  life  without  the  other.  They  think  over  the 
past  much  and  often,  and  realize  that  they  have  together 
toiled,  and  together  struggled,  and  shared  all  the  burdens 
and  sorrows  of  life.  Every  memory  of  the  past  is  equally 
vivid  to  each.  They  don't  say  much  about  their  separation 
—  so  certain  —  to  leave  one  or  the  other  so  desolate,  but  it  is 
plain  they  think  much  about  it ;  and  from  hints  occasionally 
dropped,  it  is  evident  that  each  is  contriving  and  planning 
how  the  other  can  be  made  comfortable  when  thus  left  alone, 
each  expecting  to  be  the  first  to  die.  And  when  they  think 
of  the  future,  -^  even  carrying  their  thoughts  into  heaven, — 
they  seem  to  have  an  unexpressed  fear  that  heaven  will  not 
be  all  they  desire,  if  they  can  there  be  to  each  other  nothing 
more  than  old  acquaintances  !  It  seems  as  if  they  must  carry 
something  of  the  tender  feeling  which  the  sorrows  and  the 


THE  OLD  FOLKS  AT  HOME,  45 

experience  of  life  have  given  them,  into  that  world,  and  as 
if  they  must  go  hand  in  hand  forever  !  And  the  thought  that 
they  must  soon  separate,  and  the  one  must  be  left  to  walk 
alone  in  the  rooms,  sit  alone  at  the  old  table,  kneel  alone  at 
the  altar  of  God,  go  alone  to  the  house  of  the  Lord,  gives  an 
inexpressible  tenderness  to  their  treatment  of  each  other. 
They  never,  even  in  the  days  of  youthful  courtship,  lived 
more  in  each  other's  thoughts  than  now.  Time  hath  covered 
the  rough  places  of  life,  over  which  they  have  walked  ;  and. 
years  have  healed  the  wounds  they  have  suifered,  leaving 
only  scars ;  but  the  rough  winds  of  life  have  only  bowed  their 
heads,  and  you  see  not  the  sturdy  oak,  but  the  soft,  weeping 
willow.  Memory  brings  up  pictures  of  the  past,  some  of  them 
recalling  sorrows  heavy  as  humanity  can  bear,  but  mellows 
them  down  in  her  own  golden  light ;  and  Hope  comes  still, 
not  to  sing  of  earth,  as  she  once  did,  but  of  heaven,  and  the 
ever-opening  future ;  and  Faith,  showing  nothing  to  the  eye, 
contrives  to  exert  his  power  over  them,  by  mingling  his  voice 
in  the  songs  of  Hope  ! 

They  will  not  be  with  each  other  long ;  but  while  they  do 
live,  no  part  of  their  life  has  been  more  full  of  tender  regard, 
genuine  respect,  unaffected  kindness,  or  deeper  love.  The 
young  world  can't  understand  "  the  old  folks  "  ;  but  for  my- 
self, I  never  go  into  their  dwelling  without  seeing  some  of 
the  most  purified,  refined,  and  exalted  traits  of  human  na- 
ture, which,  to  me,  are  inimitably  beautiful.  And  if  what  I 
have  said  shall  lead  my  reader  to  feel  more  kindly  toward 
those  who  are  all  around  us,  known  as  "  the  old  folks,"  I 
shall  have  gained  my  object  in  writing.  Let  me  add,  that  few 
things  are  more  repulsive  to  a  refined  heart  than  to  have 
such  a  couple  as  I  have  described  called  "  the  old  folks,"  by 
way  of  derision. 


46  HOUSEHOLD  BEADING. 


WAITING. 

AGED  man  beside  the  river, 
Waiting  for  the  call  to  cross, 
Keeping  still  thy  youth  immortal, 

Through  the  outward  change  and  loss ;  - 
Well  our  hearts  may  envy  thee, 
Waiting  by  the  "  narrow  sea." 

Eyes,  that  scarce  behold  the  faces 
Coming  love-lit  through  the  door, 

Eyes,  that  scarce  can  see  the  morning. 
Catch  the  heaven-light,  more  and  more, 

Glancing  from  the  wings  of  angels 
Walking  on  the  other  shore. 

And  the  friends,  so  long  departed, 
Seem  to  cross  the  narrow  tide. 

Lighting  up  thy  room  at  midnight. 
Smiling  on  thee,  loving-eyed  ; 

And  thou  feelest  on  thy  forehead 
Kisses  of  thine  earlier  bride. 

These  are  but  the  shining  heralds, 
Wearing  glory  of  the  dawn,  — 

Golden  clouds  along  the  orient 
Ushering  in  the  perfect  morn  : 

Who  can  tell  what  waits  thy  vision, 
When  the  full  day  shall  be  born  ! 

O  the  Christ  who  hath  ascended. 

Now  preparing  thee  a  place  ! 
They  shall  lead  thee  in  before  him, 

Thou  shalt  see  him  face  to  face  ! 
Well  our  hearts  may  envy  thee. 
Waiting  by  the  "narrow  sea." 


THE   ONE   THING  NEEDFUL.  47 


THE    ONE    THING    NEEDFUL. 

THE  religion  that  the  world  is  dying  for  is  not  a  treasure, 
valued  and  cherished,  indeed,  but  cherished  under  a 
glass  case,  in  the  best  room,  carefully  dusted,  and  visible 
only  on  days  of  high  festival.  We  want  a  religion  that  is  an 
atmosphere,  wrapping  us  about,  above,  and  below,  going- 
down  into  the  lungs  in  deep-drawn  inspirations,  to  purify  and 
energize,  filtering  into  the  blood  to  tint  and  quicken,  spread- 
ing out  in  the  skin  to  protect  and  adorn,  piercing  noisome 
cellars  to  dispel  the  noxious,  death-dealing  vapors,  mounting 
into  the  parlors,  and  bedrooms,  and  kitchens,  to  keep  them 
sweet  and  healthful,  permeating  and  interpenetrating  all 
things,  —  a  savor  of  life  unto  life. 

"We  want  a  religion  that  softens  the  step,  and  tones  the 
voice  to  melody,  and  fills  the  eye  with  sunshine,  and  checks 
the  impatient  exclamation  and  the  harsh  rebuke,  —  a  relig- 
ion that  is  polite,  deferential  to  superiors,  courteous  to  in- 
feriors, and  considerate  of  friends,  —  a  religion  that  goes  into 
the  family,  and  keeps  the  husband  from  being  spiteful  when 
the  dinner  is  late,  and  keeps  the  dinner  from  being  late ; 
keeps  the  wife  from  fretting  when  the  husband  tracks  the 
newly  washed  floor  with  his  muddy  boots,  and  makes  the 
husband  mindful  of  the  scraper  and  the  door-mat;  keeps  the 
mother  patient  when  the  baby  is  cross,  and  keeps  the  baby 
pleasant ;  amuses  the  children  as  well  as  instructs  them  ;  wins 
as  well  as  governs ;  cares  for  the  servants  besides  paying 
them  promptly ;  projects  the  honeymoon  into  the  harvest- 
moon,  and  makes  the  happy  hours  like  the  Eastern  fig-tree, 
bearing  in  its  bosom  at  once  the  beauty  of  the  tender  blos- 
som and  the  glory  of  the  ripened  fruit ;  —  a  religion  that 
looks  after  the  apprentice  in  the  shop,  and  the  clerk  in  the 
store,  and  the  student  in  the  office,  with  a  fatherly  care  and 
a  motherly  love  ;  setting  the  solitary  in  families,  introducing 


48..  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

them  to  pleasant  and  wholesome  society,  that  their  lonely  feet 
may  not  be  led  into  temptation ;  forgiving  occasional  lapses 
while  striving  to  prevent  them,  and  to  supply,  so  far  as  may 
be,  the  place  of  the  natural  guardians,  by  a  vigilance  that  at- 
tracts without  annoying. 

We  want  a  religion  that  shall  interpose  continually  be- 
tween the  ruts  and  gullies  and  rocks  of  the  highway  of  life, 
and  the  sensitive  souls  that  are  travelling  over  them. 

We  want  a  religion  that  bears  heavily,  not  only  on  the 
"  exceeding  sinfulness  of  sin,"  but  on  the  exceeding  rascality 
of  lying  and  stealing,  —  a  religion  that  banishes  short  measures 
from  the  counters,  small  baskets  from  the  stalls,  pebbles  from 
the  cotton-bags,  clay  from  paper,  sand  from  sugar,  chickory 
from  coffee,  otter  from  butter,  beet-juice  from  vinegar,  alum 
from  bread,  strychnine  from  wine,  water  from  milk-cans,  and 
buttons  from  the  contribution-box.  The  religion  that  is  to 
save  the  world  will  not  put  all  the  big  strawberries  at  the 
top,  and  all  the  bad  ones  at  the  bottom.  It  will  sell  raisin? 
on  stems,  instead  of  stems  without  raisins.  It  will  not  offer 
more  baskets  of  foreign  wines  than  the  vineyards  ever  pro 
duced  bottles,  and  more  barrels  of  Genesee  flour  than  all 
the  wheat-fields  of  New  York  grow  and  all  her  mills  grind. 
It  will  not  make  one  half  of  a  pair  of  shoes  of  good  leather, 
and  the  other  of  poor  leather,  so  that  the  first  shall  redound 
to  the  maker's  credit,  and  the  second  to  his  cash  ;  nor,  if  the 
shoes  have  been  promised  on  Thursday  morning,  will  it  let 
Thursday  morning  spin  out  till  Saturday  night.  It  will  not 
put  Jouvin's  stamp  on  Jenkins's  kid  gloves,  nor  make  Paris 
bonnets  in  the  back  room  of  a  Boston  milliner's  shop,  nor 
let  a  piece  of  velvet  that  professes  to  measure  twelve  yards 
come  to  an  untimely  end  in  the  tenth,  or  a  spool  of  sewing- 
silk  that  vouches  for  twenty  yards  be  nipped  in  the  bud  at 
fourteen  and  a  half,  nor  the  cotton-thread  spool  break,  to  the 
yardstick,  fifty  of  the  two  hundred  yards  of  promise  that  was 
given  to  the  eye,  nor  yard-wide  cloth  measure  less  than  thir 
ty-six  inches  from  selvage  to  selvage,  nor  all-wool  delaines 


THE   ONE   THING   NEEDFUL.  49 

and  all-linen  handkerchiefs  be  amalgamated  with  clandestine 
cotton,  nor  coats  made  of  old  woollen  rags  pressed  together 
be  sold  to  an  unsuspecting  public  for  legal  broadcloth.  It 
does  not  put  bricks  at  five  dollars  per  thousand  into  chim- 
neys which  it  contracted  to  build  of  seven-dollar  materials, 
nor  smuggle  white  pine  into  floors  that  have  paid  for  hard 
pine,  nor  leave  yawning  cracks  in  closets  where  boards  ought 
to  join,  nor  daub  ceilings  that  ought  to  be  smoothly  plastered, 
nor  make  window-blinds  with  slats  that  cannot  stand  the 
wind,  and  paint  that  cannot  stand  the  sun,  and  fastenings 
that  may  be  looked  at,  but  are,  on  no  account,  to  be  touched. 
It  does  not  send  the  little  boy,  who  has  come  for  the  daily 
quart  of  milk,  into  the  barnyard  to  see  the  calf,  and  seize 
the  opportunity  to  skim  off  the  cream,  nor  does  it  surround 
stale  butter  with  fresh,  and  sell  the  whole  for  good,  nor  pass 
off  the  slack-baked  bread  upon  the  stable-boy,  nor  dust  the 
pepper,  nor  "  deacon  "  the  apples.  It  does  not  put  cotton 
gathering  threads  into  the  skirt,  to  succumb  on  the  slightest 
provocation,  nor  content  itself  with  fastening  seams  at  the 
beginning  and  the  end,  trusting  to  Providence  for  the  secur- 
ity of  the  intermediate  stages. 

The  religion  that  is  to  sanctify  the  world  pays  its  debts. 
It  does  not  borrow  money,  with  little  or  no  prospect. of  repay- 
ment, but  concealing  or  glossing  over  the  fact.  It  does  not 
consider  that  forty  cents  returned  for  one  hundred  cents 
given  is  according  to  Gospel,  though  it  may  be  according  to 
law.  It  looks  upon  a  man  who  has  failed  in  trade,  and  who 
continues  to  live  in  luxury,  as  a  thief.  It  looks  upon  a  man 
who  promises  to  pay  fifty  dollars  on  demand,  with  interest, 
and  who  neglects  to  pay  it  on  demand,  with  or  without  inter- 
est, as  a  liar. 


50  HOUSEHOLD   READING. 


DR.    EMMONS. 

AS  this  divine  is  made  a  constant  target  for  review,  criti- 
cism, and  ridicule  (on  tlie  principle  that  any  man  is 
brave  enough  to  stone  a  dead  lion),  justice  demands  that  one 
peculiar  trait  of  Dr.  Emmons  should  be  clearly  understood. 
He  used  sometimes  irony  in  his  theological  discussions  with 
great  effect ;  and  the  irony,  too,  of  ^vord,  of  silence,  and  that 
expression  of  countenance  peculiar  to  himself.  In  his  inter- 
view with  Dr.  Cox,*  he  soon  became  impatient  with  Dr. 
Cox's  questions,  and  remarked,  "  0,  you  are  right,  and  I  am 
wrong."  But  Dr.  Cox  went  away  claiming  that  Dr.  Emmons 
had  recanted  the  doctrines  of  his  whole  life's  ministry ;  while 
Dr.  Emmons's  friends,  who  knew  him  far  better  than  it  was 
possible  for  Dr.  Cox  to  know,  simply  laughed  at  his  infatua- 
tion. His  most  common  mode  of  silencing  an  opponenf  was 
in  being  silent  himself ;  and  if  his  opponent  did  not  know 
enough  to  feel  the  power  of  this,  why  he  let  him  pass.  No 
one  ever  heard  of  Dr.  Emmons's  recantation  except  Dr.  Cox. 
Dr.  Emmons  acted  upon  the  principle  given  in  Prov.  xiv.  7, 
in  his  theological  discussions,  when  his  opponents  lost  their 
proper  standing  in  reason,  propriety,  and  politeness,  as  many 
did. 

It  will  interest  the  friends  of  Dr.  Emmons  to  know  that  the 
writer  holds  in  his  hands  the  post-ofRce  address  of  a  D.  D. 
who  has  in  a  most  humble  manner  confessed  that  he  knowing- 
ly stated  that  which  was  utterly  false  concerning  Dr.  Em- 
mons. And  the  Doctor's  friends  would  say,  that  very  many 
stories  reported  of  him  have  no  truth  in  them  whatever.  Dr. 
Emmons's  theology  is  as  fairly  open  to  discussion  as  any 
man's,  and  if  his  opponents  can,  as  Carlyle  says,  "  blast  him 
into  infinite  space,"  why  then  infinite  space  is  fairly  open  to 
such  explosions ;  but  let  them  deal  decently  and  fairly  with 

*  See  his  work,  "Interviews  Interesting  and  Memorable." 


GEOLOGY  AND   GENESIS.  51 

the  man,  while  (as  they  suppose)  they  mangle  the  matter. 
"Whatever  is  true,  and  whatever  is  according  to  sound  doc- 
trine, may  be  hurled  against  Dr.  Emmons's  views  rightfully, 
but  let  blunderers  and  falsifiers  beware. 


GEOLOGY    AND    GENESIS. 

A  CLERGYMAN  who  claims  the  strictest  orthodoxy  of 
Princeton  has  lately  published,  in  one  of  our  leading 
magazines,  his  unqualified  assent  to  the  teachings  of  Darwin 
and  Huxley  and  Lyell.  He  believes  that  man  has  been  on 
the  earth  for  a  great  many  thousand  years.  He  believes  that 
tlie  first  man  was  not  created,  but  unfolded  from  a  loathsome 
brute.  And  all  this  he  makes  haste  to  say  he  believes  as  a 
clergyman,  accepting  it  as  demonstrated  by  science.  He  can 
have  no  motive  for  parading  his  clerical  office,  unless  to  insin- 
uate that  his  faith  in  the  new  philosophy  will  square  with  his 
faith  in  the  Book  which  he  preaches.  Is  this  the  proper  at- 
titude of  a  Christian  tcaclier  ?  Is  he  to  hold  the  truths  of 
inspiration  in  abeyance  to  the  crude  speculations  of  science  ? 
Let  Science  keep  her  hand  on  the  facts,  and  we  have  no  fears 
for  the  Bible.  She  is  the  handmaid  of  Religion.  When  she 
interprets  nature  aright,  we  shall  see  that  God,  who  wrote  his 
law  on  the  "  tables  of  stone,"  is  the  same  living  God  who 
wrote  on  stone  amid  the  thunders  of  Sinai.  The  geologist 
has  not  read  all  the  chapters  of  the  stone  volume.  He  has 
read  enough  to  determine  the  order  of  creation. 

Granite  is  the  foundation  rock  of  the  earth.  It  is  a  mere 
cinder.  Before  granite  was  formed  the  earth  was  molten, 
a  bright,  burning  star.  Over  granite,  and  rocks  of  the  gran- 
ite family,  are  beds  of  stratified  rock.  These  were  formed  on 
sea-bottoms  and  beaches.  Animals  were  imbedded  in  them, 
and  the  hard  parts  petrified.     By  the  coolmg  and  consequent 


52  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

shrinking  and  wrinkling  of  the  earth  the  strata  were  tilted 
up.  The  geologist  can  study  them  in  their  outcrops,  and 
decipher  from  them  the  order  in  which  living  beings  were  in- 
troduced on  the  earth.  Now  what  is  the  history  lettered  on 
the  rocks  ?  The  primitive  granite  tells  us  of  heat  and  vapor 
and  chaos.  The  oldest  beds  of  sandstone  and  lime  tell  us  of 
the  first  types  of  life.  They  were  all  marine.  The  primeval 
forests  —  trees  built  on  the  humble  pattern  of  the  reed  and 
fern,  and  forming  dense  jungles  over  marshy  plains  —  we 
dig  up  in  the  form  of  coal.  In  strata  above  the  coal  we  find 
the  ruins  of  great  beasts  of  the  sea  and  land.  They  were 
cold-blooded  reptiles.  In  strata  still  newer  we  find  the  re- 
mains of  mammals.  Last  of  all,  and  last  born  of  creation, 
man,  his  bones  and  rude  implements  fashioned  by  his  hand, 
lie  entombed  in  caves  and  bogs  of  Europe.  The  geologi- 
cal record  may  be  stated  thus  :  First,  condition  of  the  earth, 
molten,  chaotic,  —  a  globe  witli  no  features,  no  distinction  of 
parts.  Second,  the  earth  crusted  over  with  granite  ;  metal- 
lic and  watery  vapors  held  in  the  air,  condensed.  Earth 
covered  with  water.  Third,  marshes  clad  in  vegetation. 
Fourth,  creation  of  great  reptiles  and  birds.  Fifth,  crea- 
tion of  mammals  and  serpents,  —  "creeping  things";  and, 
finally,  creation  of  man.  Some  geologists  may  state  the  his- 
tory in  different  periods,  but  all  will  agree  that  this  expresses 
the  order  of  events.  The  earth  had  a  beginning.  In  the 
beginning  was  chaos.  Life  began  in  the  ocean.  The  land 
brought  forth  plants  before  animals.  Cold-blooded  reptiles 
came  before  mammals.  The  lowei»  mammals  came  before 
man. 

Now  in  the  first  chapter  of  Genesis  we  have  another  record 
of  creation.  For  simplicity  and  sublimity  it  has  challenged 
the  admiration  of  those  who  deny  its  inspiration.  It  gives 
us  this  order :  First,  a  chaos,  —  "  the  earth  without  form  and 
void."  Light,  but  no  sun.  Second,  a  firmament  or  heaven. 
Third,  vegetation.  Fourth,  sun,  moon,  stars.  Fifth,  marine 
animals,  —  great  sea  beasts  and  birds.     Sixth,  mammals  and 


GEOLOGY   AND   GENESIS.  53 

serpents,  "  cattle  and  creeping  things,"  and  finally  man.  No 
one  can  fail  to  see  the  essential  agreement  between  the  two 
records.  Contradictions  are  only  seeming,  not  real.  The 
sun,  moon,  and  stars,  we  are  told,  were  created  on  the  fourth 
day  after  vegetation.  Now  science  has  shown  the  sun  to  be 
the  source  of  all  power  throughout  the  worlds  bathed  in  his 
light.  His  fleetness  is  in  the  deer,  his  strength  in  the  lion, 
his  life-giving  beams  are  stored  away  in  the  tree  and  flower. 
No  blade  of  grass  could  spring  from  the  ground,  without  the 
sun ;  but  we  are  taught  here  that  the  earth  was  made  to  bring 
forth  grass  and  herb  before  the  sun  was  created.  If  this  is 
the  meaning,  then  also  is  it  the  meaning  of  the  sixteenth 
verse,  that  the  moon  is  greater  than  any  star.  Every  one 
knows  that  the  Bible  here  sets  forth  optical  truth,  not  physical. 
Science  assures  us  that  light  from  the  sun  must  have  ap- 
peared on  the  earth  before  the  sun  himself  was  unveiled  to 
it.  Imagine  all  the  carbon  incorporated  in  living  vegetation, 
and  all  that  locked  up  under  strata  in  the  ruins  of  primeval 
vegetation  to  be  suspended  in  the  air,  imagine  the  air  to  be 
loaded  with  vapor  of  all  the  more  volatile  elements,  and  you 
will  picture  in  the  mind  an  atmosphere  which  might  shut  out 
a  view  of  the  sun  from  the  earth.  Now  such  an  atmosphere 
once  enveloped  our  world.  Light  appeared  before  the  sun. 
This  is  the  teaching  of  science,  and  it  is  the  teaching  of 
Genesis.  The  Bible  describes  the  history  of  creation  as  it 
would  have  appeared  to  the  eye. 

Another  difficulty  in  the  minds  of  some  who  accept  the 
geological  record  is,  that  the  Bible  seems  to  fix  the  age  of  the 
earth  at  about  six  thousand  years.  The  geologist  knows  that 
the  age  of  the  earth  is  so  great  that  numbers  cannot  express 
it.  The  simple-hearted  Cliristian,  wlio  is  not  familiar  with 
the  language  of  science,  may  see  no  reason  to  change  his 
faith  in  the  old  interpretation  which  assumes  that  the  heaven 
and  the  earth  were  created  in  six  days  about  six  thousand 
years  ago.  I  write  for  such,  and-fnot  for  the  professional 
geologist.     Let  me  present,  then,  a  brief  argument  simplified 


54  HOUSEHOLD   EEADING. 

to  the  comprehension  of  those  who  may  not  follow  the  more 
statelj  demonstrations. 

In  California,  a  species  of  woodpecker  bores  through  the 
bark  of  trees  and  hides  a  winter  supply  of  acorns  in  the  pits, 
—  one  acorn  in  each  pit.  I  have  seen  a  section  of  one  of  the 
great  trees  with  pits  holding  acorns  near  a  foot  from  the  bark. 
Between  the  pits  and  the  bark  were  about  five  hundred  rings 
of  growth.  These  rings,  as  every  one  knows,  are  rings  of 
annual  growth.  Here,  then,  is  a  beautiful  illustration  of  how 
Nature  may  report  herself.  What  a  bird  was  doing  five  hun- 
dred years  ago  is  more  faithfully  registered  in  the  tree  than 
the  actions  of  men  at  the  same  time  are  registered  in  history. 
But  these  rings  will  take  you  back  still  further  in  the  history 
of  nature.  They  register  the  passing  years,  not  what  was 
done  in  them.  Probably  we  should  find  these  great  trees  of 
California  to  be  many  thousand  years  old.  We  know  more 
about  the  age  of  the  cedars  of  Lebanon.  There  we  may  see 
the  same  trees  that  Solomon  saw.  They  are  some  four  thou- 
sand years  old.  Look  now  at  the  soil  from  which  they  grow. 
They  stand  on  a  ridge  of  clay  and  gravel  containing  boulders. 
The  gravel  and  clay  are  not  stratified,  not  arranged  in 
layers,  but  thrown  down  without  order.  How  was  this  ridge 
put  there  ?  Not  by  water,  else  it  would  be  stratified.  The 
greater  part  of  Greenland  is  buried  under  a  sheet  of  ice  more 
than  two  thousand  feet  thick,  called  a  glacier.  This  glacier 
moves  slowly  toward  the  south,  freighted  with  boulders  and 
gravel  and  clay.  When  the  end  of  the  glacier  thaws,  it 
throws  down  its  freight,  which  forms  a  ridge  called  a  glacial 
moraine.  Now  the  cedars  of  Lebanon  stand  on  a  glacial  mo- 
raine,—  a  ridge  formed  just  as  the  moraines  of  Greenland 
and  Switzerland.  It  is  the  monument  of  a  vast  mantle  of  ice 
which  covered  the  plains  and  mountains  of  Palestine  long  be- 
fore the  present  race  of  cedars  could  have  grown  on  Lebanon. 
Under  this  ridge  of  glacial  drift  lie  the  strata  which  form  the 
body  of  the  mountain.  They  are  beds  or  layers  of  limestone. 
With  a  crowbar  you  may  pry  asunder  the  leaves  of  rock,  and 


GEOLOGY  AND   GENESIS.  55 

every  leaf  you  will  find,  as  thickly  inlaid  with  the  dead  as  the 
leaves  in  the  herbal  of  a  botanist.  There  are  petrified  fishes 
locked  lip  in  their  stony  death  since  the  mountain  was  on  the 
bottom  of  a  sea.  And  there  are  the  ruins  of  a  tribe  of  pearly 
chambered  shells.  They  are  pearl  no  more,  but  stoiie.  These 
chambered  ammonites  sailed  like  bannered  ships  through  the 
sea.  The  race  has  been  stricken  from  the  roll  of  life.  Their 
shells  sank  to  the  sea  bottom,  and  became  imbedded  in  oozy 
mud.  Now  that  mud  is  hard  rock,  and  lifted  up  into  a 
chain  of  mountains. 

As  the  annual  rings  of  the  cedar  take  you  back  some  four 
thousand  years,  so  the  glacial  moraine  wider  the  cedar  will 
take  you  far  back  in  the  ages  to  a  time  when  Palestine  was 
buried  in  ice,  and  these  strata  under  the  moraine  will  take 
you  back  still  further  to  an  epoch  when  Palestine  and  the 
greater  part  of  Asia  and  Europe  were  buried  beneath  an 
ocean.  And  as  the  pits  and  acorns  in  the  cedar  report  to 
you  something  of  the  life  of  California  five  hundred  years 
ago,  so  the  sliells  and  fishes  petrified  in  the  mountain  report 
something  of  the  life  that  sported  in  the  oceans  of  that  long- 
ago. 

Now  these  petrifactions  in  Mount  Lebanon,  old  as  they 
are,  are  but  of  yesterday,  when  compared  with  the  age  of  the 
world.  Imbedded  in  strata  of  the  same  age  we  find  the 
ruins  of  great  sea  beasts.  As  we  have  sketched  the  history 
of  creation,  these  sea  beasts  cnxne  fourth  in  the  order,  preced- 
ing the  warm-blooded  quadrupeds  and  man.  No  one  who 
has  weighed  the  evidence  can  doubt  the  great  antiquity  of 
the  earth.  And  no  candid  mind  can  fail  to  see  that  tlie  order 
of  the  Mosaic  history  harmonizes  essentially  with  that  of  the 
geological. 

But  the  days  of  Genesis  were  not  our  days.  "  A  day  with 
the  Lord  is  as  a  thousand  years."  This  sublime  narrative  is 
stripped  of  its  dignity  if  we  take  the  days  for  twenty-four 
hours,  and  limit  the  Deity  to  a  week  of  time  gauged  for  hu- 
man labor  for  the  consummation  of  his  vast  schemes  in  the 


56  HOUSEHOLD   EEADING. 

physical  universe.  The  astronomer  has  seen  his  glory  in  the 
heavens,  worlds  created  by  his  hand  spread  through  the  im- 
mensities of  space.  The  moralist  has  seen  his  purposes  un 
folding  through  the  ages  of  human  history.  The  geologist 
has  seen  his  far-reaching  plans  unfolding  through  the  epochs 
of  nature's  history.  The  astronomer  shows  us  the  march  of 
creation  through  space ;  the  geologist,  its  march  through 
time ;  and  the  mind  can  no  more  grasp  the  epochs  of  the 
one  than  tlie  spaces  of  the  other. 

Whence,  then,  came  this  sketch  of  the  course  of  creation,  so 
grand,  so  brief,  so  truthful,  that  in  the  focal  blaze  of  modern 
science  it  stands  in  all  its  integrity  ?  In  Hindoo  cosmogony 
we  are  told  that  the  earth  was  a  chaos,  and  that  the  Creator, 
in  the  form  of  Brahma,  moved  on  the  waters,  peopled  them 
with  life,  and  lifted  the  sea-bottom  vip  into  dry  land.  We  are 
told  of  periods  of  creation  and  periods  of  destruction  ;  of  the 
sea  ingulfing  the  land,  and  of  the  Deity  descending  to  reclaim 
the  land  from  the  sea.  These  gleams  of  truth  we  find  amid 
the  grossest  errors.  The  very  form  of  the  expression  recalls 
the  opening  words  of  Genesis.  Either  the  Hindoo  borrowed 
from  the  Jew,  or  the  Jew  from  the  Hindoo.  The  freedom  of 
the  Jewish  narrative  from  Hindoo  superstition  forbids  us  to 
suppose  the  latter.  Now  we  find  Sir  Charles  Lyell  maintain- 
ing that  the  Hindoos  learned  so  much  of  truth  by  observa- 
tion. They  read  it  on  the  rocks.  But  Sir  Charles  forgets 
that  neither  Jew  nor  Hindoo  knew  how  to  observe.  What- 
ever truth  he  finds  in  their  cosmogonies  came  not  by  scientific 
induction,  however  else  it  came.  We  can  easily  see  how  the 
naturalist,  looking  only  at  matter  and  force,  should  come  by 
constant  habit  of  mind  to  ignore  that  higher  realm  of  spirit. 
As  a  naturalist  he  is  slow  to  admit  the  supernatural.  But 
everywhere,  in  every  blade  of  grass,  in  every  living  thing,  he 
sees  the  manifestations  of  a  power  which  came  from  God 
into  nature.  And  will  he  believe  that  no  illumination  of  the 
human  soul  has  been  vouclisafed  from  the  same  Father  ?  De 
Joinville  was  imprisoned  in  an  Austrian  dungeon,  where  for 


THE   OLD   WAGON-WHEELS.  67 

many  years  be  hardly  saw  a  human  face,  but  made  compan- 
ionship with  spiders  and  crickets.  He  became  so  skilled  in 
their  strange  lore  that  he  could  foretell  from  their  motions  an 
approaching  storm.  These  little  creatures  which  cannot  sin 
are  so  delicately  tuned  to  the  harmonies  of  nature,  that  the 
most  subtile  influences  vibrate  through  their  organism  as  a 
beam  of  light  through  a  diamond.  Man  stands  in  relations 
with  nature  and  with  a  sphere  above  nature,  and  if  his  spirit 
were  not  barred  by  sin  from  the  Father  of  spirits,  if  all  the 
powers  of  his  being  were  in  harmony  with  the  Infinite  Being 
as  the  life  of  the  brute  is  in  harmony  with  nature,  inspirations 
from  that  upper  sphere  might  be  as  natural  to  his  soul  as 
impressions  from  the  sphere  of  nature  to  the  organism  of  the 
brute. 

It  is  our  firm  conviction,  matured  and  strengthened  by  our 
reading  of  the  strata,  that  the  Mosaic  account  of  creation  is 
inspired  of  God.  And  he  who  wrote  the  generation  of  one 
world  saw  in  that  high  illumination  the  generation  of  all 
worlds.  "These  are  the  generations  of  the  heavens  and 
the  earth,"  —  the  universe.  God  is  one  as  well  as  infinite, 
and  as  his  creative  power  was  manifested  on  the  earth,  so 
in  the  same  laws  it  was  manifested  on  every  sphere. 


THE    OLD    WAGON-WHEELS. 

HOW   THEY   PREACHED    TExAIPERANCE. 

MANY  reformers  seem  to  be  endowed  with  a  capacity  to 
make  the  wrath  of  their  enemies  to  praise  them,  by 
turning  their  vile  machinations  to  the  furtherance  of  their 
cause.  A  few  years  ago  there  was  an  occurrence  in  Law- 
rence County,  New  York,  which  happily  illustrates  this  state- 
ment. 

A  pioneer  reformer,  "  a  terror  to  evil-doers,"  had  rendered 


58  HOUSEHOLD   READING. 

himself  obnoxious  to  half  a  dozen  rumsellers  and  their  al- 
lies in  a  little  thickly  settled  village.  These  sons  of  Belial 
were  at  their  wits'  ends  to  know  how  to  check  his  career  and 
destroy  his  influence.  At  length  when  the  good  man  had 
driven  to  the  village,  and  in  the  shades  of  the  evening  had 
hitched  his  horse  to  an  old  oak,  in  his  absence  they  hit  upon 
the  device  of  setting  loose  his  horse  and  dismantling  his 
wagon.  The  body  they  placed  at  the  trunk  of  the  tree,  and 
the  wheels  they  hung  on  the  branches,  as  high  as  Haman's 
gallows,  and  retired  exulting  in  their  exploit.  The  owner 
soon  returned,  and  seeing  the  venerable  oak  adorned  with 
his  old  wheels,  as  a  bride  adorned  with  rings  and  ringlets, 
laughed  heartily,  and  exclaimed,  "  There,  there  let  them  hang 
till  they  rot  down ;  they  ivill  preach  temperance  cheaper  and 
better  than  I  can  do  it.^^ 

The  old  tree  was  public  property.  No  one  seemed  disposed 
to  rob  it  of  its  meretricious  charms ;  the  friends  of  temper- 
ance gazed  and  admired,  whilst  its  enemies,  who  had  pro- 
claimed their  own  shame,  dared  not  (for  fear  of  ridicule) 
touch  the  old  wagon-gear  with  one  of  their  fingers.  Year 
after  year  the  old  wheels  basked  in  the  sun,  and  swung  and 
creaked  in  the  winds,  and  the  old  tree  became  an  object  of 
admiration,  a  sort  of  monumental  pillar,  publishing  the  mag- 
nanimous achievements  of  rumsellers  and  their  parasites. 

Strangers,  as  they  journeyed  through  the  village,  gazed 
and  wondered,  and  troubled  the  villagers  with  many  in- 
quiries. Customers,  near  and  remote,  some  from  curiosity  and 
some  from  love  of  sport,  teased  the  guilty  storekeepers  be- 
yond endurance  as  months  and  years  rolled  on.  And  our 
reformer  (Heaven  bless  him,  he  can  say,  "  I  still  live"), — 
our  reformer  had  the  pleasure  of  knowing  that  his  old  wheels 
preached  temperance  to  multitudes  which  he  could  never 
reach,  and  the  whole  affair  proved  a  capital  temperance  in- 
vestment. 

We  have  known  rumsellers  and  their  victims  to  resort  to 
many  expedients  to  intimidate  reformers,  —  shear  the  manes 


A   CHILD'S   EVENING   HYMN.  59 

of  horses,  loosen  linchpins,  hurl  putrid  eggs,  fire  houses, 
withdraw  patronage,  and  the  like,  —  but  we  can  hardly  recol- 
lect a  case  where  vengeance  did  not  recoil  upon  their  own 
pates ;  the  guns  kicked  and  killed  their  cannoneers,  the  gal- 
lows they  have  erected  have  served  for  their  own  necks. 
Hence,  in  a  day  like  this,  when  the  rum  party  is  rallying  and 
renewing  the  battle,  the  friends  of  God  and  reform  should 
unroll  the  scroll  of  the  past,  and  gather  fresh  courage  from 
an  immense  treasury  of  temperance  facts,  —  all  going  to  show 
that  a  kind  Providence  from  the  first  has  made  most  adverse 
circumstances  subservient  to  this  great  and  beneficent  cause. 


A    CHILD'S    EVENING    HYMN. 

LITTLE  child,  why  wilt  thou  fear? 
Jesus,  tender  Shepherd 's,  near ; 
He  thy  downy  couch  will  keep, 
Tremble  not  to  sleep ! 

Little  cliild,  wdiy  wilt  thou  fear? 

Night  is  to  His  vision  clear, 
And  the  darkness  knows  His  tread ; 
He  defends  thy  bed. 

Though  thy  voice  were  ne'er  so  low, 

It  will  reach  His  ear,  I  know, 
For  His  words  thy  plea  shall  be, 
"  Children,  come  to  me." 

Listening  alway  up  above, 

Waiting,  watching  for  thy  love. 
Little  child,  't  is  easy  now 
To  His  will  to  bow ! 

Put  thy  trembling  hand  in  His  ; 

Strong  and  powerful  it  is ; 
It  shall  guide  thee  through  the  night 
Into  perfect  light. 


60  HOUSEHOLD   EEADING. 


THE    YOUNG    CONQUEROR. 

IT  was  a  warm  morning  in  the  latter  part  of  May,  and  Hal 
Grey,  on  his  way  to  chapel,  arm  in  arm  with  Lame  Jemmy, 
met  Bill  Massey. 

"  Good  morning,  Puritans,"  said  he,  with  a  kind  of  wicked 
smile;  "you'll  be  apt  to  see  some  fun  at  prayers  this  morning." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  asked  both  together. 

"  0,  you  two  boys  are  always  talking  about  being  so  good, 
and  *  overcoming,'  and  all  that ;  perhaps  you  '11  see  old  Prex 
overcome  this  morning,  or  come  over,  just  as  you  please  to 
take  it." 

Harry  immediately  suspected  some  trick,  and  begged  Bill 
not  to  do  anything  to  hurt  the  feelings  of  kind  Mr.  Avery. 
But  he  could  draw  nothing  further  from  his  mischievous 
schoolmate,  and  so  went  reluctantly  on. 

As  he  entered  the  chapel,  he  looked  hurriedly  around. 
Everything  was  in  its  place,  and  he  felt  somewhat  reassured. 
Presently  Mr.  Avery  appeared,  and  walked  with  dignified 
step  to  his  chair.  Hal  watched  him  with  painful  interest, 
nor  were  his  fears  in  vain,  for  as  the  worthy  man  seated  him- 
self, the  chair  suddenly  gave  way,  and  he  was  prostrated  on 
the  floor.  A  few  silly  boys  laughed,  but  the  hot  blood  rushed 
to  Hal's  cheeks  and  brow,  especially  when  he  saw  that  Mr. 
Avery  had  so  sprained  his  foot  as  to  be  unable  to  rise  with- 
out the  assistance  of  an  under  teacher.  The  chair  was  im- 
mediately examined,  and  it  was  discovered  that  one  of  the 
back  legs  had  been  sawed  off. 

Mr.  Avery  turned  very  sternly  to  the  assembled  boys,  and 
demanded  who  had  dared  perpetrate  such  a  miserable  practi- 
cal joke. 

The  most  profound  silence  followed  the  question ;  but  as 
Mr.  Avery's  keen  eye  swept  round  the  room-,  it  rested  on  the 
embarrassed  face  of  Hal  Grey. 


THE  YOUNG   CONQUEROR.  ^  61 

"  What  do  you  know  about  it,  sir  ?  "  he  asked  suddenly. 

The  crimson  grew  deeper  upon  Hal's  cheeks,  but  he  drew 
himself  up  a  little  proudly,  as  he  firmly  replied,  "  I  did  not 
do  it,  sir." 

"  Do  you  know  who  did  ?  "  persisted  Mr.  Avery. 

Harry  hesitated,  and  at  last  said  faintly,  "  I  would  rather 
not  answer,  sir." 

"  But  I  command  you.  Come,  I  am  waiting  for  the  name," 
said  Mr.  Avery,  with  growing  impatience. 

"Please  excuse  me,  sir,"  pleaded  Hal,  "I  cannot  tell  that." 

"  Cannot^  and  why  ?  "  cried  Mr.  Avery,  a  little  angrily. 
But  poor  Hal  could  only  repeat,  "  Please  excuse  me,  sir." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Mr.  Avery,  thoroughly  vexed  at  what 
he  called  Harry's  obstinacy,  while  the  growing  pain  in  his 
foot  tended  to  increase  an  irritability  in  which  he  seldom  in- 
dulged. "  Very  well,  sir,  if  you  have  nothing  further  to  say, 
we  may  reasonably  conclude  that  you  are  the  guilty  one 
yourself,  and  will  proceed  to  award  your  punishment." 

"I  did  not  do  it,  Mr.  Avery,"  interposed  Harry;  but  that 
gentleman,  with  a  hastiness  he  afterwards  regretted,  pro- 
ceeded to  say,  "  Henry  Grey  is  suspended  from  his  classes  for 
one  week,  and  ordered  to  remain  in  his  room  during  the 
hours  of  recreation  for  the  same  length  of  time." 

Lams  Jemmy  interposed  tearfully,  "  Will  this  prevent  him 
from  taking  the  prize  at  the  end  of  this  term,  sir  ?  " 

"  Of  course,"  said  Mr.  Avery,  briefly,  and  proceeded  with 
the  morning  exercises. 

This  last  was  too  great  a  blow  for  Hal.  He  had  striven  so 
hard  for  that  prize,  and  meant  so  to  delight  his  mother,  and 
now  to  lose  it  all  in  a  minute.  It  was  too  much,  and,  leaning 
back  in  the  shadow  of  the  chapel  pillar,  he  with  difficulty  re- 
strained his  tears.  And  then,  too,  how  hard  to  have  Mr. 
Avery  think  so  ill  of  him.  Surely  Bill  would  not  have  the 
heart  to  leave  him  in  such  disgrace,  —  he  would  confess  ;  but 
no,  not  a  word  more  was  said  upon  tlie  subject,  and  presently 
the  boys  dispersed  to  their  different  class-rooms,  giving  Hal 


b2  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

many  a  look  and  word  of  sympathy,  as  they  passed,  for  he 
was  a  great  favorite  in  the  school. 

At  the  hour  for  morning  exercise,  Hal  could  not  resist 
hurrying  down  for  one  minute's  talk  with  Bill  Massey. 
"  Bill,  Bill,"  he  cried,  as  the  boy  tried  to  evade  him. 
"  Surely,  you  do  not  mean  to  make  me  lose  the  prize.  You 
ivill  tell  Mr.  Avery,  won't  you  ?  I  know  he  won't  scold  very 
Iiard,  now  it 's  all  over,  and  you  know  you  can't  get  the  prize, 
any  way.      WonH  you  tell  him,  Bill?  " 

"  I  don't  think  I  shall  do  anything  of  the  kind." 

"  You  won't  tell  him  ?  "  cried  Hal,  with  indignant  surprise. 

"  No,"  said  Bill,  doggedly. 

The  bright  color  leaped  into  Hal's  cheeks,  and  his  eyes 
flashed  with  anger. 

"  Well,  then,  you  're  a  mean-spirited  fellow,  and  a  cow- 
ard ! "  cried  Hal,  his  fiery  temper  entirely  getting  the  mas- 
tery of  him. 

"  No  boy  shall  call  me  that,"  said  Bill,  coolly  rolling  up 
his  sleeves. 

"  Come  on,"  cried  Harry,  excitedly.  "  I  'm  ready  to  fight, 
if  that 's  what  you  mean." 

"  Hal,  dear  Hal,"  pleaded  Lame  Jemmy,  and  his  clinging 
touch  was  upon  the  boy's  arm. 

Hal's  eyes  softened  a  little,  as  he  said,  "  Go  away,  please, 
Jem,  I  might  hurt  you." 

But  Jemmy  clung  the  tighter.  "  Dearest  Hal,  you  are  not 
the  right  kind  of  a  conqueror  now.  0  think,  Hal,  '  to  him 
that  overcometh,'  the  tree  of  life,  the  morning  star,  the  para- 
dise of  God.  Now  is  the  time  to  fight  hard ;  '  doivn  passion, 
down  revenge.''  Be  a  conqueror,  Hal,  but  be  sure  and  strike 
in  the  right  place." 

Hal's  anger  rapidly  cooled  as  Jem  spoke,  and  at  last  he 
threw  his  arms  aroimd  his  little  friend,  exclaiming,  "  Jemmy, 
I  believe  you  are  my  good  angel."  Then  turning  to  Bill,  he 
said  with  an  eifort,  "  I  am  sorry  I  called  you  names,  but  I 
cannot  fight  with  you." 


THE   YOUNG   CONQUEROR.  63 

Bill  broke  into  a  loud,  sneeriDg  laugh. 

"  That 's  a  good  way  to  get  out  of  it,  you  miserable  sneak. 
Why  don't  you  say  you  don't  dare  fight,  instead  of  playing 
good,  and  trying  to  imagine  you  're  a  martyr  just  ready  to  be 
taken  out  of  a  wicked  world  ?  " 

Hal  was  about  making  an  indignant  reply,  but  checked 
himself  just  in  time,  and  rushing  to  his  room,  threw  himself 
upon  his  knees,  repenting  bitterly  of  this  outburst  of  passion, 
and  humbly  asking  help  for  the  future.  Harry  bore  the 
remainder  of  his  week  of  disgrace  with  quiet  gentleness  and 
patience,  and  Mr.  Avery  more  than  once  regretted  the  severity 
of  his  sentence. 

A  few  more  weeks  passed,  and  found  Hal  still  fighting  the 
good  fight,  with  his  proud,  young  spirit  under  firm  control. 

In  the  long  twilight  of  a  lovely  June  evening,  Hal  was 
walking  with  Jemmy  by  the  river,  watching  Bill  Massey,  as 
he  taught  a  troop  of  young  boys  to  swim. 

"  There  is  one  thing  troubling  me.  Jemmy,"  said  Hal,  at 
length.  "  I  do  not  think  I  feel  quite  right  towards  Bill  Mas- 
sey yet,  I  don't  like  to  have  him  near  me,  and  I  would 
rather  oblige  any  boy  in  school  than  him." 

"  Well,  it  is  hard,  but  I  suppose  it  is  another  feeling  to  be 
overcome.     We  must  pray  for  strength  to  figlit  it  down." 

"  I  ^(9,*  J,em,"  said  Hal,  with  sweet  seriousness,  "and  I  wish 
you  \l  pray /or  me." 

"  You  're  not  such  a  bad  boy,  after  all,"  cried  Jem,  lov- 
ingly, looking  into  Hal's  clear,  honest  eyes.  "  I  believe  if 
there  were  some  great  service  to  be  done  for  Bill  this  minute, 
you  'd  be  the  first  to  offer." 

"  I  'm  not  so  sure  of  that,"  returned  Hal,  laughing. 

Just  then  there  was  a  great  commotion  among  the  swim- 
mers, and  some  little  boys  on  shore  cried  out,  "  Bill  Massey  is 
going  down,  he  has  the  cramp,  he  will  drown !  " 

"  Ah !  that  is  true,"  cried  Jem,  "  and  those  little  fellows 
can  only  keep  their  own  heads  above  water.  0,  why  did  he 
li'o  out  so  far  ?  " 


64  HOUSEHOLD   READING. 

Hal  did  not  stop  to  think  twice,  but  pulling  off  coat  and 
boots,  plunged  into  the  water,  and  with  swift  strokes  ap- 
proached the  drowning  boy.  Bill  was  a  long  distance  from 
shore,  and  it  was  almost  by  superhuman  efforts  that  Hal 
managed  to  reach  him,  as  he  was  sinking  for  the  last  time. 

"  There,  he  has  him !  "  shouted  the  little  boys.  "  Hurrah !  " 
But  Jem's  anxieties  were  not  over.  "  Poor  Hal  is  so  tired," 
he  thought,  "  how  will  he  tow  in  that  heavy  Bill  Massey  ?  " 

Slowly,  and  with  painful  effort,  carefully  keeping  the  head 
of  his  companion  above  water,  the  brave  swimmer  struck 
out  for  the  shore.  At  first  he  came  on  gallantly,  then  his 
strength  seemed  to  flag,  and  once  or  twice  both  disappeared 
from  sight. 

"  0,  if  I  were  only  not  quite  so  helpless,"  groaned  Jemmy ; 
"  run  call  some  of  the  big  boys  quick,  or  they  both  will  drown ! " 

What  an  endless  time  it  seemed  before  help  came.  Ah  ! 
there  was  Hal's  curly  head  again,  nearer,  nearer.  "  A  few 
more  strokes,  dear  Hal,"  cried  Jem.     "  You  are  almost  in." 

Here  the  little  boys  set  up  a  wild  shout,  as  two  or  three  of 
the  older  students  arrived  just  in  time  to  draw  the  exhausted 
pair  from  the  water.  Part  of  them  then  applied  themselves 
to  the  task  of  reviving  Bill  Massey,  while  the  rest  crowded 
around  Hal,  congratulating  him,  and  warmly  shaking  his 
hand.  Hal  smiled  faintly,  and  tried  to  thank  them,  but  sud- 
denly he  turned  deathly  pale,  a  stream  of  blood  gushed  from 
his  mouth,  and  he  fell  fainting  in  Bob  Wilson's  arms. 

"What  is  it?"  cried  Jemmy,  in  terror,  as  they  laid  him 
upon  tlie  grass. 

"  Call  Mr.  Avery,  and  run  for  a  physician,"  cried  Bob,  giv- 
ing quick  orders  to  the  little  boys.  Jem  in  the  mean  while 
knelt  down,  and  drew  the  dear  head  upon  his  breast.  Smooth- 
ing back  the  wet  curls,  he  whispered  anxiously,  "  How  do  you 
feel,  darling?  " 

Hal  opened  his  eyes,  and  with  his  own  bright  smile,  ever 
mindful  of  the  feelings  of  others,  replied,  "  It  is  nothing,  I 
do  not  suffer  any." 


THE  YOUNG   CONQUEROR.  65 

But  with  the  exertion  of  these  few  words,  the  life-stream 
gushed  forth  so  violently,  that  the  boys  turned  pale,  and 
looked  at  each  other  with  a  terrible  fear. 

Presently  good  Mr.  Avery  came  hurrying  down.  "  What 
is  this,  my  dear,  dear  boy? "  he  cried,  as  he  saw  his  favorite 
pupil  extended  apparently  lifeless  before  him. 

A  few  hurried  words  explained  the  matter. 

"  What  can  be  done  for  him  ?  "  he  cried,  as  the  physician 
made  his  appearance.  "  Dr.  Brown,  you  must  save  this  noble 
boy." 

The  Doctor  knelt  beside  him  a  moment  with  a  very  grave 
face.  "  He  has  broken  a  bloodvessel,"  he  whispered  to  Mr. 
Avery.     "  I  'm  afraid  he  will  live  but  a  few  minutes." 

"  0  do  not  say  that,"  groaned  Mr.  Avery ;  "  make  every 
exertion  for  his  life,  leave  no  remedy  untried." 

Just  then  Hal  opened  his  eyes  dreamily,  and  seeing  the 
pale,  grave  face  of  his  teacher  bending  over  him,  he  said,  anx- 
iously, "  Do  you  still  think  I  did  it,  sir  ?  " 

Bill  Massey  broke  through  the  crowd,  and  in  a  tone  full  of 
anguish  and  remorse  cried  out,  "  0  Mr.  Avery,  if  he  means 
the  chair,  I  did  it,  I  did  it.  0  Hal,  you  must,  you  must  for- 
give me." 

A  look  of  satisfaction  passed  over  Hal's  pale  face,  and  he 
turned  smilingly  to  Mr.  Avery. 

"  Is  it  all  right  now,  sir  ?  " 

"  0  my  darling  child  ! "  sobbed  Mr.  Avery,  and  could  say 
no  more. 

All  remedies  were  in  vain,  and  the  young  life  ebbed  fast. 

"  What  is  it,  dear  Hal  ?  "  wept  Jemmy,  putting  his  ear 
close  to  those  loved  lips,  to  catch  an  almost  inarticulate 
murmur. 

"  The  Morning  Star,"  whispered  Hal,  faintly,  "  the  tree  of 
Life  in  the  midst  of  the  paradise  of  God  !  " 

"  '  To  him  that  overcometh,'  to  you,  dear  Hal,  but  ah  !  " 
cried  Lame  Jemmy,  with  a  sudden  burst  of  anguish,  "  will 
you  leave  me  behind,  0  Hal  ? " 

5 


6Q  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

Harry  Grey  did  not  seem  to  heed  those  once  familiar  tones, 
but  opening  his  clear  eyes  once  more,  he  gazed  lovingly 
around  the  weeping  circle,  gave  one  last,  bright  smile,  and 
the  last  enemy  was  destroyed,  even  Death. 

That  night  as  Bob  and  Jemmy  watched  in  the  room  where 
the  young  conqueror  slept  peacefully  after  the  battle  of  life, 
the  door  softly  opened,  and  Bill  Massey  stole  in. 

Jemmy  half  shuddered  when  he  saw  him  ;  but  the  boy  was 
so  changed,  so  pale  and  broken-hearted,  Jemmy  could  not 
say  a  word  to  reproach  him.  For  a  while  he  moaned  and 
wept  bitterly,  then  drawing  forth  a  wreath  of  laurel,  he  laid 
it  reverently  upon  Hal's  soft,  bright  curls. 

"  He  is  a  greater  conqueror  than  ever  I  shall  be,"  he 
sobbed,  as  he  rushed  from  the  room. 

"  Yes,"  added  Bob,  "  and  he  has  won  a  greater  prize  than 
I  have  ever  striven  for." 

"  And  I  believe,"  cried  Jemmy,  almost  with  exultation,  as 
he  kissed  the  fair  brow,  —  "I  believe  God  has  made  him  an 
angel  excelling  in  strength." 


A  REMINISCENCE   OF   DR.  WAYLAND. 

WAS  a  free-thinker.  I  read  Rousseau  and  Lord  Byron 
and  believed  in  them.  Religion  I  judged  of  by  the  long 
stereotyped  prayers  and  ascetic  looks  of  some  ill-bred  Chris- 
tians. I  hated  orthodoxy  as  I  saw  and  heard  it  from  the 
stand-point  I  had,  in  my  proud  imagination,  taken  ;  and  I 
came  to  consider  every  one  professing  it  sold  under  the  hard 
bondage  of  fanaticism. 

In  this  mental  status  I  took  my  seat  in  the  lecture-room  of 
Dr.  Wayland.  He  was  then  discussing  the  powers  and  func- 
tions of  the  "moral  sense."  His  course  of  argumentation 
was  so  keen  and  clear  that  I  soon  began  to  listen ;  I  began 


A  EEMINISCENCE   OF  DR.  WAYLAND.  67 

to  question,  to  argue,  to  present  objections  in  order  to  drive 
him  from  his  positions.  It  was  like  damming  up  the  waters 
of  the  Nile  with  bulrushes.  His  logic,  unfolded  in  his  per- 
spicuous yet  laconic  style,  quite  overwhelmed,  confounded 
me.  I  saw  that  I  was  standing  on  a  foundation  made  of  shift- 
ing sand.  I  saw  that  I  was  a  miserable  sinner,  and  nothing 
but  a  miserable  sinner,  in  the  sight  of  an  offended  God. 

I  went  to  my  room  to  pray  :  my  knees  were  stubborn  :  the 
load  upon  my  heart  was  crushing  me  ;  what  must  I  do  to 
escape  the  wrath  of  the  Almighty  ?  Hope  seemed  to  have 
taken  its  everlasting  flight. 

I  arose  and  ventured  into  the  presence  of  Dr.  Wayland. 
He  was  in  his  study,  reading  his  old  well-worn  copy  of  the 
sacred  Word.  He  received  me  kindly,  and  I  at  once  made 
known  to  him  the  anguish  of  my  soul.  I  felt  and  said,  "  My 
sins  are  so  many  and  so  great  that  God  cannot  pardon  me." 

Fixing  his  keen  black  eyes,  beaming  with  heavenly  tender- 
ness, full  upon  me,  this  good  man  said,  and  never  till  my 
dying  day  can  I  forget  the  earnest  solemnity,  the  eloquence 
of  the  tone,  "  When  he  tvas  yet  a  great  way  off  his  father  saw 
him,  and  had  compassion  on  him,  and  ran  and  fell  on  his  nech 
and  kissed  him." 

I  felt  that  the  case  was  mine ;  and  Hope,  reviving  Hope, 
came  winging  then  her  joyous  flight  to  me  to  gild  my  path- 
way through  this  checkered,  transitory  state. 

Dr.  Wayland  then  knelt  down  and  prayed  with  me  and  for 
me,  and  on  leaving  him  he  lent  me  his  well-thumbed  copy  of 
Bishop  Wilson's  Sacra  Privata,  advising  me  to  read  that  and 
Edwards's  "  Life  of  Brainerd,"  instead  of  Byron,  and 

"  If  I  met  with  trials  and  troubles  on  the  way, 
To  cast  myself  on  Jesus,  —  and  not  forget  to  pray." 

I  never  knew  till  that  never-to-be-forgotten  night  the  full 
meaning  of  that  great  English  word,  —  Friendliness.  I 
never  knew  Jesus  Christ  till  then  ! 


HOUSEHOLD  EEADING. 


PREPARATION  FOR  PUBLIC  PRAYER. 

A  GOOD  gift  of  preparation  is  one  of  the  best  blessings 
that  God  bestows  upon  any  man,  is  especially  valuable 
to  the  public  speaker,  and  most  of  all  to  the  minister  of  the 
Gospel.  Tliis  gift,  well  exercised,  will  in  no  small  degree 
compensate  for  the  deficiency  of  many  others,  if  it  does  not 
altogether  supply  their  lack  of  service.  Without  it  the  most 
brilliant  gifts  are  liable  to  fail  their  possessor  just  when  he 
needs  them  most.  Is  it  not  possible  that  this  gift  may  be 
used  in  public  prayer  much  more  frequently  than  it  is,  and 
to  the  great  edification  of  all  who  unite  in  the  prayer  ? 

In  our  recoil  from  the  written  and  stereotyped  forms  of 
prayer  in  which  some  Christians  prefer  to  worship  God,  there 
is  some  danger  that  we  go  to  the  opposite  extreme,  and  of- 
fend both  God  and  man  by  irregular,  disorderly,  and  ill-con- 
sidered addresses  to  the  Throne  of  Grace.  There  is  equal 
danger  that  we  fall  insensibly  into  the  constant  use  of  the 
same  expressions  and  the  same  routine  of  expression,  to  such 
an  extent  that  our  prayers  differ  from  those  that  are  written, 
only  in  being  recited,  instead  of  being  read  from  books. 
"  Has  father  most  done  praying  ? "  whispered  an  urchin  to 
whom  the  length  of  the  family  devotions  was  somewhat  irk- 
some. "  0  no,"  responded  his  more  observing  brother,  "  he 
has  n't  got  to  the  Jews  yet !  " 

Any  prayer  in  which  the  hearer  can  accurately  deter- 
mine just  how  far  it  is  to  the  Jews,  and  how  far  from  the 
Jews  to  the  end,  may  be  a  very  good  prayer  as  between  him 
who  offers  it  and  Him  who  hears  and  answers  prayer,  but  as 
respects  those  who  listen  and  who  ought  to  unite,  it  is  little 
better  than  no  prayer.  Not  much  more  edifying  are  those 
prayers  which  are  like  "  the  shadow  of  death  without  any 
order  "  ;  in  which  praise,  petition,  confession,  thanksgiving, 
intercession,  and  whatever  else,  are  poured  out  in  such  con- 


PREPARATION   FOR   PUBLIC    PRAYER.  69 

fusion  that  no  hearer  can  follow  the  prayer,  much  less  retain 
it  in  the  memory  and  heart. 

The  only  remedy  for  these  things  is  to  exercise  the  gift  of 
preparation.  No  minister,  worthy  to  be  called  a  minister, 
ventures,  except  in  the  extremest  emergency,  to  commence 
his  sermon  without  knowing  what  he  will  say,  and  in  what 
order  he  will  say  it.  If  he  will  not  be  the  mouthpiece  of 
God  to  the  people  without  preparation,  how  can  he  dare  to 
be  the  mouthpiece  of  the  congregation  to  God,  with  no  fore- 
thought how  or  what  he  shall  speak  ?  In  what  manner,  and 
to  what  extent,  preparation  should  be  made,  must  vary,  of 
course,  according  to  the  mental  peculiarities  and  the  habits 
of  study  of  each  individual.  A  minister  of  my  acquaintance 
sometimes  writes  his  prayers  at  full  length,  and  commits 
them  to  memory  so  thoroughly  that  he  need  give  himself  no 
concern  about  the  language,  but  only  about  the  spirit  in 
which  it  is  uttered.  That  is  rather  too  much  of  a  good  thing. 
Another  prepares  a  written  brief,  as  for  a  sermon,  arranging 
the  parts  in  proper  order,  and  specifying  the  particulars  un- 
der each  topic.  TTith  this  impressed  upon  his  mind  to  guide 
him,  he  uses  such  language  as  he  may  find  available  at  the 
time  of  prayer.  Another  premeditates  his  prayer  for  a  half- 
hour  or  an  hour,  as  one  would  premeditate  an  unwritten  dis- 
course. And  many  others,  it  is  to  be  feared,  neither  write 
nor  premeditate,  but  offer  purely  extempore  prayers,  which, 
even  more  than»extempore  sermons,  are  apt  to  be  "  extrump- 
ery." 

Some  preparation  for  public  prayer  is  almost  indispensable 
to  its  efficiency  as  a  means  of  grace.  There  must  be  a  weigh- 
ing, more  or  less  careful,  of  the  thoughts  and  words  with 
which  man  addresses  his  Maker.  Otherwise  a  congregation 
may  realize  that  their  minister  is  leading  them  in  prayer,  but 
they  will  not  be  likely  to  realize  it  to  such  an  extent  as  to 
follow  him.  His  prayer  may  be  a  very  good  prayer  in  itself, 
but  it  will  have  little  or  no  effect  on  the  minds  and  hearts  of 
liearers.     "Whereas,  a  thorough  preparation  for  prayer  is  not 


70  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

only  more  rev^erential  toward  God,  but  is  almost  sure  to  ren- 
der the  prayer  more  useful  to  those  who  unite  in  it.  An  in- 
cident which  occurred  some  years  ago  will  show  how  useful 
prayers  so  prepared  may  be.  A  minister,  examining  a  candi- 
date for  admission  to  the  Church,  inquired  the  origin  of  her 
religious  impressions.  She  answered  that  she  owed  them, 
under  God,  to  his  sermons  and  prayers,  especially  to  the 
prayers.  He  was  surprised.  He  expected  good  results  from 
his  sermons,  for  he  had  preached  the  truth  with  simplicity 
and  godly  sincerity.  But  he  had  anticipated  no  such  thing 
from  his  prayers.  He  was  conscious,  however,  that  he  had 
taken  special  pains  to  prepare  that  part  of  public  worship,  by 
storing  his  mind  with  the  good  words  of  the  Scriptures,  by 
studying  freshness,  variety,  and  especially  adaptation,  and 
by  devoting  the  hour  preceding  public  worship  entirely  to  the 
cultivation  of  a  devotional  spirit.  Preparation  for  public 
prayer  may  not  always  secure  such  valuable  results  as  that, 
but  it  will  never  fail  of  greatly  benefiting  both  the  minister 
and  the  people. 


THE    TILLAGE    CLOCK. 

Suggested  by  Longfellow's  Poem,  "  The  Old  Clock  on  the  Stair." 

• 

ON  the  gentle  lawn,  from  the  village  street, 
Stands  the  old  church,  where  the  villagers  meet ; 
Up  through  its  aisles  young  men  have  passed, 
Young  men  grown  gray  for  the  grave  at  last ; 
While  the  Bride's  sweet  call  from  the  pulpit  exprest, 
Has  been  echoed  far  up  on  its  spiry  crest,  — 
Repent  —  believe ! 
Believe  —  repent ! 

From  the  preacher,  discharging  his  solemn  trust, 
From  the  saddening  service,  returning  to  dust 


THE   VILLAGE   CLOCK.  71 

The  village  honor,  the  village  pride ; 
From  the  modest  choir,  from  blushing  bride, 
From  worshipping  people  with  humble  heart, 
Has  come  that  call  from  its  every  part, 

Repent  —  believe ! 

Believe  —  repent ! 

In  joy  its  voice  is  low  and  light, 

In  turbulent  trials  and  sorrow's  night. 

The  "  still,  small  voice  "  continues  its  call,  — 

Along  the  aisles,  along  the  hall, 

Till  the  clock  far  up  in  the  tower  above, 

Gives  back  the  words  and  call  of  love. 

Repent — believe! 

Believe  —  repent ! 

Like  urging  spirits,  the  voiceless  hands  — 
By  marking  the  hours  —  life's  passing  sands  — 
Above  the  villager's  trouble  and  toil, 
Above  his  trials  and  life's  turmoil. 
Send  forth,  as  far  as  their  rays  can  reach. 
The  same  kind  call,  and  seem  to  teach 

Repent  —  believe ! 

Believe  —  repent ! 

Firmly  its  hands  are  pointing  on, 

And  soon  they  '11  mark  the  last  sand  gone. 

The  church  will  crumble  ;  its  tower  fall ; 

The  preacher  and  clock  will  cease  their  call ; 

Yet  e'en  where  wreck  and  ruin  lie 

They  still  shall  call,  as  the  years  go  by,  — 

Repent —  believe ! 

Believe  —  repent ! 

Into  the  spirit-world  shall  go 

The  voice  of  the  village  clock  below, 

The  voice  of  the  preacher,  the  voice  of  the  tower, 

The  voice  which  bore  the  spirit's  power  ; 


72  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

And  there  before  the  "great  white  throne  " 
Shall  meet  each  soul  with  God  alone. 

Repent — believe! 

Believe  —  repent ! 

Not  as  to  village  it  uttered  its  call, 

It  now  pronounces  sentence  on  all : 

To  the  sinner  who  turned  from  the  Bride  away 

It  denies  a  single  forgiving  ray ; 

But  leads  him  apart  to  eternal  death, 

Of  Hope  and  Heart  and  Heaven  bereft. 

Condemned  —  lost ! 

Lost  —  condemned ! 

Not  as  to  village  it  uttered  its  call. 

It  now  pronounces  sentence  on  all ; 

To  the  Christian  clothed  in  the  Bride's  array 

It  gives  the  joys  of  eternal  day, 

And,  leading  along  the  "  golden  streets," 

Guides  him  onward  to  blissful  seats,  — 

Redeemed  —  saved  ! 

Saved  —  redeemed ! 


FEAR,    THE    BASIS    OF  ALL    LAW. 


A  GENTLEMAN  who  belongs  to  the  class  of  people  that 
call  themselves  Liberal  Christians  lately  expressed  to 
me  his  horror  of  orthodoxy,  because  it  teaches  the  doctrine 
of  future  punishment,  thus  appealing  to  the  fears  of  men ; 
and  he  denounced  fear  in  round,  set  terms  as  a  degrading 
motive  of  action.  I  have  reason  to  believe  that  his  senti- 
ments are  entertained  quite  extensively  by  the  class  who 
hold  his  general  opinions,  —  I  need  not  say  how  extensively. 
I  expressed  to  him  some  views  that  were  novel  to  him ;  per- 
haps it  may  not  be  entirely  useless  to  state  them  in  your  col 


FEAR,    THE   BASIS   OF   ALL   LAW.  '  73 

umns.  At  all  events,  if  any  of  them  are  erroneous,  nobody 
but  an  anonymous  correspondent  is  responsible  for  them, 
and  they  may  lead  to  useful  reflections  on  an  important 
topic. 

Fear  is  the  great  conservative  element  in  all  human  society. 
The  object  of  human  laws  is  to  restrain  men  from  doing 
wrong  to  each  other,  and  the  principal  basis  of  law  is  fear. 
If  we  look  into  the  statutes  against  crimes  and  offences,  we 
find  that  they  consist  of  a  description  of  those  crimes  and  of- 
fences, and  penalties  prescribed  for  the  commission  of  them. 
Punishment  by  death  deprives  the  criminal  of  further  power 
to  commit  offences ;  punishment  by  imprisonment  deprives 
him  of  that  power  temporarily.  With  these  exceptions,  the 
force  of  criminal  law  lies  in  its  power  to  excite  the  fear  of 
punishment.  Where  it  punishes  one  person,  it  restrains  mul- 
titudes by  means  of  this  fear.  Very  few,  people  ?cem  to  have 
reflected  upon  the  incalculable  value  of  this  influence  of  fear 
in  protecting  society  from  crime  and  wrong.  If  it  could  be 
extinguished  for  a  single  week,  the  community  would,  at  the 
end  of  the  week,  present  a  frightful  spectacle  of  desolation. 

In  respect  to  matters  not  criminal,  the  law  protects  us  all 
by  the  same  influence  of  fear.  Multitudes  are  constrained 
to  pay  their  honest  debts  and  to  abstain  from  trespasses  and 
frauds  by  the  fear  of  legal  retribution ;  and  if  all  remedies 
by  civil  actions  were  abolished,  no  man  would  feel  safe  any- 
where, nor  could  the  business  of  society  be  carried  on.  The 
effect  of  a  single  lawsuit  is  to  make  ten  thousand  men  do 
justice  to  their  neighbors,  when  they  would  otherwise  have 
withheld  it.  Indeed,  all  human  government  is  based  on  fear, 
and  without  this  element  it  would  cease  to  be  government. 

In  proportion  as  a  man  can  have  confidence  in  himself,  that 
he  will  not  be  tempted  to  violate  a  particular  law,  or  that  the 
temptation  will  not  overcome  him,  he  may  live  in  freedom 
from  the  fear  of  that  law.  If  no  one  were  in  danger  of  vio- 
lating a  particular  law,  no  one  would  need  to  fear  that  law. 
Indeed,  there  is  no  need  of  prescribing  a  penalty  for  an  of- 


74  '  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

fence  that  no  one  is  disposed  to  commit,  and  legislators  never 
make  lawij  against  such  imaginary  offences.  But  there  is 
such  a  vast  variety  of  vrrougs  that  men  are  inclined  to  do  to 
each  other,  that  every  reflecting  man  will  be  more  deeply 
impressed,  the  more  he  thinks  of  the  matter,  with  the  incal- 
culable value  of  the  conservative  influence  of  the  fear  created 
by  human  laws. 

This  leads  us  to  inquire  into  the  nature  of  the  moral  feel- 
ing which  lies  at  the  foundation  of  these  laws.  There  is  a 
sect  of  philosophers  who  call  it  vengeance,  and  some  of  them 
call  it  revenge ;  but,  in  fact,  it  is  love. 

Love  seeks  the  highest  good  of  its  object.  This  is  its 
nature ;  and  the  legislator  or  magistrate  who  has  genuine 
love  for  the  people  will  seek  to  promote  and  secure  their 
highest  good.  In  proportion  as  anything  thwarts  or  destroys 
that  good,  love  opposes  and  abhors  it.  I  need  not  prove 
that  crime  and  wrong  of  every  description  is  hostile  to  the 
good  of  the  people,  for  every  one  admits  it.  It  is  hostile  to 
every  impulse  of  love  for  the  people,  and  there  is  a  neces- 
sary enmity  and  warfare  between  the  two.  It  must  be  so 
perpetually.  If  love  can  connect  itself  with  power,  it  will 
use  that  power  to  keep  out  crime  and  wrong,  and  will  aim 
at  their  extirpation.  Its  most  efficient  instrument,  so  far  as 
we  know,  is  law  with  penalties  and  retributive  justice ;  and 
we  have  seen  that  law  is  chiefly  efficient  through  the  influ- 
ence of  fear.  Thus  it  is  manifest  that  fear  is  the  auxiliary 
of  love,  and  of  course  its  office  is  purifying  and  elevating, 
and  not  degrading.  It  is  to  deter  men  from  doing  wrong ; 
and  every  man  who  is  tempted  to  do  wrong  stands  in  need  of 
its  salutary  influence.  He  acts  wisely  when  he  consults  fear, 
and  is  afraid  to  do  wrong  ;  and  it  is  degrading  to  any  citizen 
to  cast  off  the  fear  of  doing  wrong. 

In  the  science  of  human  government,  the  last  generaliza- 
tion to  which  induction  would  lead  us  is  love.  This  compre- 
hends the  whole  idea  of  government.  By  the  opposite  process, 
we  deduce  from  it  abhorreiice  of  crime  and  wrong,  and  the 


FEAE,    THE   BASIS   OF   ALL   LAW.  75 

use  of  power  and  wisdom  and  justice  and  fear  in  the  enact- 
ment and  administration  of  law,  in  hostility  to  crime  and 
wrong,  and  in  protecting  the  people  against  it. 

But  there  is  a  large  department  of  life  that  human  laws 
cannot  reach,  and  in  which  the  influence  of  fear  is  necessary. 
This  leads  us  to  inquire  whether  there  is  any  source  that  sup- 
plies this  influence.  Orthodox  people  believe  it  is  found  in 
the  Divine  law  as  revealed  in  the  Bible.  Their  scientific  idea 
of  religion  is,  that  its  ultimate  general  principle  to  which  in- 
duction would  lead  is  infinite  love,  and  that  the  whole  of  the 
Divine  government  is  to  be  deduced,  and  is  deduced  in  the 
Bible,  from  that  principle,  though  the  deduction  is  not  for- 
mally stated.  It  is  of  the  nature  of  infinite  love  to  seek  the 
highest  good,  the  blessedness,  of  its  objects.  Of  necessity,  it 
cannot  look  upon  good  and  evil,  righteousness  and  wicked- 
ness, with  anything  approaching  to  indifference,  but  seeks 
good  with  infinite  intensity.  Therefore,  there  is  a  necessary 
hostility  and  warfare  between  it  and  everything  that  would 
thwart  or  destroy  that  good.  From  what  we  know  of  the 
evil  effect  of  sin  in  the  world,  how  can  we  doubt  that  a  God 
of  infinite  love  must  entertain  infinite  abhorrence  of  the  sin 
that  he  sees  in  the  world  ?  Take,  for  example,  enormous 
crimes  like  the  cruelties  that  were  practised  on  our  prisoners 
at  Andersonville  and  Libby  Prison  and  Belle  Isle,  and  who 
can  doubt  that  Infinite  Love  abhors  them  infinitely.  Apply 
the  same  course  of  thought  to  each  of  the  numberless  of- 
fences of  which  the  world  is  so  full,  and  we  are  forced  to  the 
same  result  as  to  them.  Each  one  of  us  is  compelled  to  ask, 
in  view  of  the  evil  ho  has  done,  how  ho  shall  stand  before  his 
final  Judge,  if  there  be  a  Divine  law. 

Well,  if  infinite  love  has  the  aid  of  infinite  power,  we  can- 
not doubt  that  its  natural  impulse  will  be  to  restrain  these 
wrongs  and  sins  by  laws  with  penalties,  and  thus  appeal  to 
the  fears  of  men  to  restrain  them  from  doing  evil.  If  infinite 
wisdom  constructs  these  laws,  it  will  make  the  penalties  ade- 
quate to  all  the  exigences  of  Divine  government.     But  we 


76  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

know  very  well  that  no  such  penalties  are  executed  in  this 
life.  Many  a  criminal  goes  "  unwhipt  of  justice  "  here.  It 
Is  true  that  natural  laws  tend  to  promote  Divine  justice 
to  some  extent,  but  it  would  be  folly  to  pretend  that  chey 
execute  it  perfectly.  They  were  evidently  not  designed  to 
do  so. 

Orthodox  people  accept  the  Bible  as  a  Divine  revelation, 
and  think  they  find  in  it  a  statement  that  the  penalties  of  Di- 
vine law  are  to  be  inflicted  in  the  future  life.  They  accept 
this  statement  as  true,  simply  because  they  find  it  there. 
They  did  not  make  the  doctrine  of  future  punishment,  but 
believe  that  God  has  revealed  it. 

This  doctrine  is  met  by  a  great  amount  of  ridicule  ;  but  if 
the  Bible  asserts  it,  and  it  is  a  Divine  revelation,  it  is  a  poor 
business  to  ridicule  it  or  scoff  at  it.  The  thing  must  be  met 
as  a  reality  that  we  did  not  place  there,  and  could  not  get  rid 
of  if  we  would.  Those  who  ridicule  it  must  meet  it  as  a  fact 
in  God's  government,  if  it  be  a  fact. 

Many  others  contend  that  it  is  an  unreasonable  doctrine. 
Now,  if  they  and  we  know  what  are  the  exigences  of  God's 
government  in  the  future  life,  and  how  it  is  to  operate  there, 
we  might  reason  about  this  matter ;  but  we  know  noth- 
ing about  it  except  what  is  revealed,  and  therefore  all  our 
reasonings  about  it  are  futile.  Beyond  what  is  revealed, 
our  ideas  of  what  infinite  love  will  induce  God  to  do  there  in 
respect  to  those  who  have  been  the  opponents  of  his  love  and 
violators  of  his  laws  here  are  wild,  groundless  conjecture. 

But  the  idea  which  my  friend  started  with,  is  that  the  fear 
which  this  doctrine  creates  is  degrading  as  a  motive  of  action. 
The  idea  is  in  direct  opposition  to  the  assertion  of  the  Bible, 
that  "  the  fear  of  the  Lord  is  the  beginning  of  wisdom,"  and 
that  it  is  folly  to  "cast  off  fear."  It  disregards  the  warning 
of  Christ,  so  emphatically  given,  "  Fear  him  who,  after  he 
hath  killed  the  body,  is  able  to  cast  both  soul  and  body  into 
hell ;  yea,  I  say  unto  you,  fear  him."  This  authority  ought 
to  be  sufficient :  but  if  we  look  at  the  influence  of  this  fear  as 


FEAR,   THE   BASIS   OF   ALL   LAW.  77 

mere  practical  business  men,  we  cannot  fail  to  see  that,  as  a 
conservative  power  to  keep  men  from  doing  wrong,  notliing 
else  can  be  compared  to  it,  or  can  supply  its  place.  Its  pow- 
er extends  over  that  department  of  life  tliat  human  laws  can- 
not reach.  It  enforces  duties  which  they  cannot  meddle  witli. 
It  restrains  men  from  doing  wrong  when  they  are  alone,  and 
i]i  their  secret  thoughts.  It  keeps  the  inmost  heart  of  man 
from  offending ;  and  the  more  earnest  is  one's  fear  of  hell, 
the  more  earnestly  will  he  restrain  himself  from  all  that  is 
wrong.  Every  man  needs  the  influence  of  this  fear,  when- 
ever he  is  in  danger  of  yielding  to  temptation  ;  and  who  of  us 
is  not  included  in  this  class  ?  If  we  can  get  beyond  the  pow- 
er of  temptation,  and  are  influenced  by  perfect  love,  then  in- 
deed we  shall  find  that  "  perfect  love  casteth  out  fear."  We 
shall  no  longer  need  its  influence.  But  till  then  it  is  wise 
to  cherish  this  fear ;  and  to  cast  it  off,  is  to  cast  off  our  most 
efficient  aid  in  resisting  temptation. 

But  the  denial  of  the  doctrine  of  future  punishment  in- 
volves the  denial  of  the  fact  that  God  has,  in  any  just  sense 
of  the  term,  any  law  against  wickedness  or  crime.  For  since 
he  does  not  execute  penalties  in  this  life,  but  allows  the 
wrongdoer  so  often  to  die  in  the  midst  of  prosperity  and 
the  wronged  so  often  to  live  in  misery  and  die  with  his 
wrongs  unredressed,  he  must  inflict  his  penalties  in  the  fu- 
ture life  if  anywhere,  and  if  not  executed  there,  they  have 
no  actual  existence.  It  involves  the  further  idea  that  he  is 
indifferent  in  respect  to  the  existence  of  all  this  wickedness 
and  crime,  and  therefore  there  is  no  such  thing  as  divine 
love  in  respect  to  men  in  this  life.  In  this  doctrine,  then,  we 
find  degrading  ideas  of  God.  These  ideas  also  tend  to  de- 
grade man  ;  for  they  take  away  the  most  powerful  restraints 
against  wickedness  that  can  exist,  and  give  to  undetected  and 
secret  crime  a  perfect  impunity.  Indeed,  they  give  impunity 
to  every  crime  and  wrong  that  can  escape  punishment  in  this 
life.  In  this  doctrine,  therefore,  wickedness  of  every  species 
finds  one  of  its  strongest  auxiliaries,  and  one  of  its  most  clier 
ished  consolations. 


78  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 


TAKE    MY    HAND,    PAPA. 

N  the  dead  of  night,  I  am  frequently  wakened  by  a  little 
hand  stealing  out  from  the  crib  by  my  side,  with  the 
pleading  cry,  "  Please  take  my  hand,  papa ! " 

Instantly  the  little  boy's  hand  is  grasped,  his  fears  vanish, 
and  soothed  by  the  consciousness  of  his  father's  presence  he 
falls  into  sweet  sleep  again. 

We  commend  this  lesson  of  simple,  filial  faith  and  trust  to 
the  anxious,  sorrowing  ones  that  are  found  in  almost  every 
household.  Stretch  forth  your  hand,  stricken  mourner,  al- 
though you  may  be  in  the  deepest  darkness  and  gloom,  and 
fear  and  anxious  suspense  may  cloud  your  weary  pathway, 
and  that  very  act  will  reveal  the  presence  of  a  loving,  com- 
passionate Father,  and  give  you  the  peace  that  passeth  all 
understanding. 

The  darkness  may  not  pass  away  at  once,  night  may  still 
enfold  you  in  its  embrace,  but  its  terrors  will  be  dissipated, 
its  gloom  and  sadness  flee  away,  and  in  the  simple  grasp  of 
the  Father's  hand,  sweet  peace  will  be  given,  and  you  will 
rest  securely,  knowing  that  the  "  morning  cometh.^' 


"PAPER    FLOWERS." 

FEW  years  since,  an  excellent  bass  singer  was  intro- 
duced into  the  choir  of  my  church.  I  knew  him  as  a 
moral  and  honest  citizen,  as  a  good  blacksmith,  but  in  relig- 
ious matters  professedly  a  Unitarian.  He  listened  attentive- 
ly to  preaching,  and  was  under  a  good  Christian  influence  in 
the  orchestra  and  at  the  rehearsals,  —  our  chorister  being  a 
Christian  man,  as  every  chorister  ought  to  be.     He  at  length 


"PAPER   FLOWERS."  79 

began  to  meet  us  in  our  social  circle,  and  became  quite 
approachable  on  the  subject  of  personal  religion.  I  never 
argued  with  him  on  a  single  point  that  theologically  sepa- 
rated us,  but  urged  personal  duties  to  meet  personal  wants. 
He  admitted  he  was  not  happy  nor  satisfied  entirely  with  his 
own  condition.  One  evening,  after  a  long  talk  upon  Chris- 
tian experience  and  hope,  during  which  I  noticed  occasion- 
ally the  moistened  eye  and  evident  interest,  I  urged  him  to 
give  himself  to  God  at  once,  and  to  begin  a  life  of  prayer. 
To  the  latter  he  assented,  and  we  parted.  The  second  or 
tliird  morning  afterwards,  he  sent  for  me.  I  found  him  in 
great  distress  of  mind ;  so  much  so  that  he  could  neither 
sleep,  eat,  nor  work ;  but  his  ignorance  of  the  way  of  salva- 
tion by  Christ  was  pitiable.  He  said :  "  I  never  have  heard 
or  read  any  of  these  things  with  the  slightest  interest ;  and 
the  little  I  thought  I  knew  about  them  seems  now  to  be  all 
gone.  It  is  dark,  terribly  dark,  — all  this  matter.  Can  you 
lead  me  through  ?  " 

For  some  days  he  groped  his  way  along,  step  by  step,  until 
light  began  to  beam  upon  his  soul,  and  finally  the  Sun  of 
Righteousness  arose  upon  his  view,  and  he  was  completely 
happy  in  his  new  views  of  new  life.  He  was  converted  to 
orthodoxy  at  the  same  time  he  was  converted  to  Christ,  so 
far  as  he  could  determine.  He  was  encouraged  to  tell  "what 
the  Lord  had  done  for  his  soul,"  in  the  conference  meeting. 
He  was  quite  ready  to  do  it,  as  he  was  anything  else  that  it 
was  thought  he  ought  to  do.  He  came  to  speak  often,  and 
always  with  interest,  and  sometimes  with  decided  effect.  I 
shall  never  forget  one  of  his  many  original  and  striking  illus- 
trations. He  was  addressing  moralists,  of  whom  it  had  been 
his  boast  that  he  was  among  the  first,  and  was  contented  to 
be  there.  But  now  he  saw  the  emptiness,  if  not  the  selfish- 
ness, of  all  such  pretensions.  "  My  friends,"  said  he,  "  I 
know  how  you  feel,  what  you  think,  and  where  you  are.  I 
have  been  long  there,  and  know  all  about  it.  Now  I  look  at 
these  things  through  different  eyes,  and  from  another  stand-' 


80  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

point.  Christ  is  my  righteousness  and  my  all,  now.  Your 
good  deeds,  your  correct  morals,  they  are  only  paper  flow- 
ers, which  will  exhale  no  fragrance  acceptable  unto  God." 
His  eyes  were  turned  upward,  glistening  with  the  starting 
tears,  as  he  paused  an  instant,  and  then  repeated,  "  only  pa- 
per flowers,  at  the  best.  You  must  bring  something  better, 
or  you  never  will  be  accepted."  The  eflfect  was  thrilling. 
He  was  a  growing,  because  he  was  a  witnessing  and  a  faith- 
ful Christian  ;  and  so  long  as  he  was  able  to  be  present,  he 
was  a  light  and  a  life  in  the  prayer-meeting. 

It  was  delightful  to  see  what  the  grace  of  God  could  do, 
and  did  do,  for  that  trusting  man,  both  in  the  few  years  of 
his  life,  and  on  his  sick  and  dying  bed.  In  that  dread  hour, 
when  he  was  going  into  the  presence  of  his  Judge,  he  had 
something  better  than  "  paper  flowers  "  to  take  with  him. 
The  rose  of  Sharon  and  the  lily  of  the  valley,  and  all  the 
"  flowers  of  Paradise "  were  his.  Whence  this  so  great 
change  ? 

That  man  first  felt  the  influence  of  a  Christian  choir. 
He  had  come  to  sing  sacred  music  with  different  feelings, 
when  he  found  that  those  who  led  and  joined  him  in  that 
service  sung  "  with  the  spirit  and  with  the  understanding 
also." 

That  man  felt  the  influence  of  Christian  society.  He  had 
never  before  associated  with  the  "  stiff  and  unapproachable 
orthodox."  He  soon  found  them  good  company,  and  he  met 
them  with  frank  cordiality.  The  church  "  sociables  "  were 
so  conducted  as  to  be  a  means  of  grace  to  him. 

That  man  felt  that  his  pastor  cared  more  for  his  soul's  sal- 
vation than  for  useless  argument  with  his  prejudices.  I  did 
not  allude  to  any  of  his  objections'  to  our  doctrines,  and 
avoided  everything  that  would  excite  ill  feeling,  but  sought 
simply  to  convince  him  of  his  unfitness  for  heaven,  and  his 
great  need  of  something  he  had  not  got.  I  assured  him  there 
was  great  comfort  in  trusting  all  to  the  Christ  of  history, 
who  was  also  the  Christ  of  the  Bible.     There  are  thousands 


SOMETHING  ABOUT  TUNNELLING.  81 

Tiow  who  have  no  better  reliance  than  their  "  paper  flow- 
ers." Let  them  be  invited  to  Christian  choirs,  if  they  can 
sing.  Let  them  be  brought  to  the  church  or  family  soci- 
ables, where  religion  shall  distil  its  hallowed  influence  with- 
out being  offensively  prominent.  0  let  such  be  brought  to 
Christ  first  and  at  once,  —  to  technical  orthodoxy  afterwards  ! 
Here  is  an  open  and  an  inviting  field  for  every  Christian. 


SOMETHING    ABOUT   TUNNELLING. 

THE  process  of  tunnelling  which  the  war  has  brought  so 
much  in  vogue  is,  I  presume,  unfamiliar  to  most  of  my 
readers.  The  modus  operandi  is  this  :  the  workman  having 
sunk  a  hole  in  the  ground,  three,  six,  or  eight  feet,  as  the 
case  may  require,  strikes  off  horizontally,  lying  flat  on  his 
face,  and  digging  with  whatever  tool  he  can  find,  —  usually  a 
case-knife.  The  excavation  is  made  just  large  enough  for 
one  man  to  creep  through  it.  The  great  difficulty  is  to  know 
where  to  conceal  the  dirt.  In  Salisbury,  however,  this  ob- 
stacle did  not  exist,  for  many  of  the  prisoners  lived  in  holes 
in  the  ground,  which  they  were  constantly  changing  or  en- 
larging. Hence  the  yard  abounded  in  hillocks  of  fresh  dirt, 
upon  which  •  that  taken  from  the  tunnels  could  be  spread 
nightly  without  exciting  notice. 

After  the  great  influx  of  prisoners  of  war  in  October,  a 
large  business  in  the  way  of  tunnelling  was  done  in  the  Sal- 
isbury garrison.  I  knew  of  fifteeen  "  in  course  of  construc- 
tion "  at  one  time,  and  presume  there  were  many  more.  The 
commandant  of  the  prison  learned  the  fact,  though  he  could 
not  learn  their  location  ;  and  he  adopted  a  very  ingenious 
and  effectual  method  of  rendering  them  abortive. 

In  digging  laterally  in  the  ground,  at  the  distance  of 
thirty  or  forty  feet,  the  air  becomes  so  foul  that  lights  will  not 

6 


82  HOUSEHOLD   BEADING. 

burn,  and  men  breathe  with  difficulty.  In  the  great  tunnel 
from  Libby  Prison  sixty-five  feet  long,  by  which  one  hundred 
and  fourteen  of  our  officers  escaped,  this  embarrassment  was 
obviated  by  a  bit  of  Yankee  ingenuity.  The  officers,  with 
tacks,  blankets,  and  boards,  constructed  a  pair  of  huge  bel- 
lows, like  those  used  by  blacksmiths.  Then,  while  one  of 
them  worked  away  with  his  case-knife,  progressing  four  or 
five  feet  in  twelve  hours,  and  a  second  filled  his  haversack 
with  dirt  and  removed  it  (of  course  backing  out,  and  crawl- 
ing on  his  return,  as  the  tunnel  was  a  "  single  track,"  and 
had  no  "turn-table"),  the  third  sat  at  the  mouth  pumping 
vigorously,  and  thus  supplied  the  workers  with  fresh  air. 

At  Salisbury  this  was  impracticable.  I  suppose  a  paper  of 
tacks  could  not  have  been  purchased  there  for  a  thousand 
dollars.  Confederate  money,  or  for  any  other  sum.  There 
were  none  to  be  had.  Of  course  we  could  not  pierce  holes 
up  to  the  surface  of  the  ground  for  ventilation,  as  that  would 
expose  everything. 

Originally  there  was  but  one  line  of  guards,  —  posted  some 
twenty-five  feet  apart,  upon  the  fence  which  surrounded  the 
garrison,  and  constantly  walking  to  and  fro,  meeting  each 
other  and  turning  back  at  the  limits  of  each  post.  Under 
this  arrangement  it  was  necessary  to  tunnel,  about  forty 
feet,  to  go  under  the  fence  and  come  up  far  enough  beyond  it 
to  emerge  from  the  earth  on  a  dark  night  without  attracting 
the  sight  or  hearing  of  the  sentinels. 

But  when  the  commandant  learned  (through  prisoners  who 
were  actually  suffering  for  food,  and  would  do  almost  any- 
thing for  bread)  that  tunnelling  was  going  on,  he  tried  to 
ascertain  where  the  excavations  were  located,  but  in  vain,  be- 
cause none  of  the  shaky  prisoners  had  been  informed.  There- 
fore he  established  a  second  line  of  guards,  one  hundred  feet 
outside  of  those  on  the  fence,  who  also  paced  back  and  forth 
in  the  same  manner  until  they  met,  forming  an  outer  line  im- 
pervious to  Yankees.  This  necessitated  tunnelling  at  least 
one  hundred  and  forty  feet,  which,  without  ventilation,  was 


SOMETHING   ABOUT   TUNNELLING.  83 

just  as  much  out  of  the  question  as  to  tunnel  a  hundred  and 
forty  miles. 

The  great  Libby  tunnel  in  Richmond,  which  was  so  perfect 
a  success,  was  of  the  smallest  dimensions.  Colonel  Streight 
of  Indiana,  who  tended  toward  the  Falstaffian  in  his  propor- 
tions, was  very  apprehensive  that  he  could  not  possibly  work 
his  way  through  it.  He  found  it  extremely  difficult,  and 
narrowly  escaped  the  fate  of  the  greedy  fox  in  the  fable,  who 
"  stuck  in  the  hole."     But  he  finally  squeezed  through. 

Colonel  Streight  was  personally  unpopular  with  some  of  his 
brother  officers  ;  but  the  Rebels  hated  him  so  ardently,  and  he 
always  talked  to  them  with  such  perfect  frankness  and  bold- 
ness, that  when  the  tunnel  was  completed,  his  fellow-prisoners 
declared  with  one  voice  that  he  should  be  the  first  man  to 
go  out.  He  was  the  first  man ;  and  the  Rebels  were  more 
annoyed  and  angry  at  losing  him  than  the  escape  of  any 
dozen  of  his  comrades  would  have  made  them. 

He  remained  hidden  in  Richmond,  among  faithful  Union 
people,  for  nearly  two  weeks.  The  first  officers  who  reached 
our  lines  caused  the  announcement  to  be  published  in  all  the 
papers,  that  Streight  had  arrived  at  Fortress  Monroe.  This 
threw  the  Richmond  authorities  off  their  guard ;  the  search 
for  him  was  discontinued ;  and  finally,  under  a  skilful  and 
practised  pilot,  having  travelled  slowly  and  with  caution  for 
ten  or  eleven  nights  (to  accomplish  less  than  a  hundred 
miles),  he  reached  the  protection  of  the  stars  and  stripes, 
under  which  he  is  still  doing  gtllant  service  in  that  gallant 
army  which  is  commanded  by  one  of  our  greatest  and  best 
captains,  —  Major-General  George  H.  Thomas. 


84  HOUSEHOLD   READING. 


SINGING    IN    CHURCH. 

WE  shall  vibrate  between  the  choir  and  the  congregation 
until  we  understand  the  subject  better.  Our  minis- 
ters are  not  yet  in  the  secret  for  the  most  part ;  and  both 
Smith,  who  leads  the  choir,  and  Brown  who  snarls  at  it,  are 
equally  in  the  fog.  There  will  be  a  revolution  by  and  by, 
and  this  thing  will  be  set  right ;  but  it  cannot  come  till  our 
whole  people  are  pervaded  with  intelligent  thought  on  the 
subject,  and  have  come  to  a  definite  and  just  conclusion. 
And  yet  that  revolution  will  be  only  half  a  revolution  at  last ; 
for  the  problem  is  not  to  be  solved  except  by  a  retention  of 
both  the  common  modes  of  Christian  song  now  in  use. 

Smith  despises  the  unwieldy  blundering  of  the  congrega- 
tion and  stands  up  for  his  choir,  which  happens  to  be  a  good 
specimen  of  that  system.  Alice  Larke,  who  leads  the  so- 
prano, is  a  jewel  of  a  girl,  to  be  sure,  and  sings  like  a  Chris- 
tian at  heaven's  gate.  Exquisite  art  has  become  mere  nature 
to  her,  and  not  only  Smith,  but  a  goodly  number  of  the  con- 
gregation, are  carried  up  to  sky  regions  with  her  when  she 
sings. 

But  Brown  has  lungs ;  he  has  a  voice,  too  ;  he  wants  to 
sing ;  he  knows  how  to  sing  ;  and,  what  is  more,  he  looks 
round  him  and  sees  dozens  and  scores  in  the  congregation  in 
the  same  condition.  But  the'honest  man  is  virtually  muzzled, 
and  so  are  the  rest,  because  there  are  from  eight  to  twenty 
who  are  in  better  training  than  it  is  possible  for  him  to  at- 
tain to.  It  is  but  natural  that  he  should  sometimes  almost 
show  his  teeth  when  that  charming  Alice  is  trying  to  lead 
him  with  the  chain  of  melody.    He  is  not  in  a  state  to  be  led. 

We  must  find  a  place  for  both ;  and  we  can  do  it  as  easy  as 
not,  I  know,  for  I  have  tried  it. 

My  dear  chorister,  do  pray  let  me  say  a  word  to  you.  You 
can  do  a  good  thing  as  a  leader :  your  choir  shows  that.     I 


SINGING  IN   CHURCH.  85 

admire  its  perfect  training,  and  yet  more  its  reverent  serious- 
ness. If  you  will  only  oblige  me  now  by  doing  a  little  work 
for  us  below  stairs,  I  will  see  that  you  're  paid  for  it  out  of 
my  salary  (now  $  300  per  annum). 

Brown  wants  to  sing  ;  so  do  I ;  so  does  my  wife  ;  so  do  my 
children  (Jemima  has  a  sweet  voice  —  witJi  cultivation)  ;  so 
does  Deacon  Goodman ;  so  do  all  the  children ;  so  do  a  great 
many  of  the  old  folks.  Now  we  want  you  to  come  and  teach 
us  times  hj  rote,  just  as  you  do  the  children  in  the  Sunday 
school.  I  could  use  notes ;  so  could  Brown  and  others, 
but  not  all  who  can  sing.  The  old  tunes  —  the  grand- 
fathers of  those  in  your  choir-book  —  we  already  know  so 
■poorly  that  you  had  better  lay  them  aside  for  tlie  present. 
Old  dogs  and  new  tricks,  you  know.  Take  new  tunes,  sim- 
ple, but  with  something  in  them.  Take,  from  the  "  Sabbath 
Series  "  all  the  most  dangerous,  —  those  which  Dr.  Mason  tried 
in  vain  to  reduce  to  the  common  monotony  that  makes  his 
book  like  sixty  meals  of  "  hash  without  variation  "  ;  take  the 
least  dangerous  from  the  "Plymouth,"  —  better  still  if  we 
can  some  time  have  a  book  for  this  very  purpose, — and,  after 
twenty  minutes'  practice,  we  shall  know  by  rote  any  tune  you 
give  us,  if  you  know  how  to  do  it.  A  few  evenings  will  give 
us  a  variety  that  will  surprise  you.  Insist  upon  our  sing- 
ing with  spirit  and  tolerable  time. 

There  now  !  Listen  !  Brown  fairly  roars  that  bass.  Our 
Jemima  —  look  at  her  !  how  her  eyes  shine  !  And  see  what 
delight  is  everywhere  visible  !  I  tell  you.  Smith,  it 's  human. 
We  all  love  to  sing ;  and  I  do  believe  God  loves  to  hear  us. 

"  0  mother  dear,  Jerusalem ! 
"When  shall  I  come  to  thee  !  "  —  Rhine. 

Now  I  tell  you  what.  When  we  come  to  meeting,  do  you 
have  your  choir  all  ready  with  an  introit  or  anthem,  as  diffi- 
cult as  you  please,  provided  you  can  still  sing  it  with  the 
spirit.  Tell  Alice  we  can  all  listen  to  her,  and  go  with  her 
now,  —  there  is  nothing  to  irritate  or  disappoint  us.  Then 
let  us  have  the  first  hymn.     Of  course  your  choir  all  know 


86  HOUSEHOLD   READING. 

our  tunes,  and  we  should  delight  to  have  you  sing  with  us. 
I  don't  think  you  would  spoil  anything.  And  your  exquisite 
art,  in  those  hymns  which  you  sing  by  yourselves,  will  be  all 
the  more  delightful  from  comparison  with  the  mighty  chorus 
(remember  Browyi)  which  comes  up,  other  whiles,  from  all 
the  people.  I  don't  care  whether  we  sing  the  first  hymn  or 
the  last,  but  let  us  at  least  have  one  of  the  three.  Do  you 
agree  ? 


MY    ANGEL-DRESS 


"T  counsel  thee  to  buy  of  me  white  raiment."  —  Revelation  lit.  18. 


H 


EAVENLY  Father,  I  would  wear 
Angel-garments,  white  and  fair, 
Angel-vesture,  undefiled ; 
Wilt  thou  give  unto  thy  child  ? 


Not  a  robe  of  many  hues, 
Such  as  earthly  fathers  choose. 
Discord  weaves  the  gaudy  vest, 
Not  in  such  let  me  be  dressed. 

Take  the  raiment  soiled  away, 
That  I  wear  with  shame  to-day. 
Give  ray  angel-robes  to  me, 
White  with  heaven's  own  purity ! 

Take  away  my  cloak  of  pride  ; 
And  the  worthless  rags  't  would  hide, 
Clothe  me  in  my  angel-dress. 
Beautiful  with  holiness ! 

Let  me  wear  the  vihite  robes  here. 
Even  on  earth,  my  Father  dear ; 
Holding  fast  thy  hand,  and  so 
Through  the  world  unspotted  go. 


BUILDING   AROUND   HOME.  87 

Perfume  every  fold  with  love, 
Hinting  heaven  where'er  I  rove, 
As  an  Indian  vessel's  sails 
Whisper  of  her  costly  bales. 

Let  me  now  the  white  robes  wear, 
Then  I  need  no  more  prepare ; 
All  apparelled  for  my  home 
Whensoe'er  thou  callest  "  Come  ! " 

Thus  apparelled  I  shall  be 

As  a  signal  set  for  Thee, 

That  the  wretched,  poor,  and  weak 

May  the  same  fair  garments  seek. 

«  Buy  of  Me,"  I  hear  Thee  say  ; 
I  have  naught  wherewith  to  pay. 
But  I  give  myself  to  Thee, 
Clothed,  adopted  I  shall  be. 


BUILDING    AROUND    HOME. 

IT  was  wisely  ordered,  in  repairing  the  walls  of  Jerusalem 
under  Neliemiah,  that  the  people,  as  far  as  practicable, 
should  each  "  build  over  against  his  own  house."  His  loca- 
tion should  determine  his  work.  He  was  not  to  select  for 
himself  some  distant  section  of  the  wall,  where  the  work  of 
building  was  easier,  or  where  the  company  of  laborers  was 
more  inviting.  The  proximity  of  the  work  to  his  own  house 
decided  his  service  for  the  sacred  cause,  and  would  enable 
him  to  be  more  expeditions  and  more  efficient  in  its  ac- 
complishment. 

This  method  of  distributing  Christian  work  is  demanded  iu 
the  prosecution  of  our  great  work  of  home  evangelization. 


as  HOUSEHOLD   READING. 

The  location  of  a  man's  home  is  an  important  circumstance 
to  be  considered  by  him  in  judging  what  is  the  sphere  in 
which  his  influence  should  be  most  strenuously  exerted  for 
the  kingdom  of  Christ. 

Twenty  years  ago  the  experiment  was  commenced  of  es- 
tablishing a  church  in  a  village  where  religious  error  had 
long  flourished,  and  borne  its  bad  fruit.  The  members  gath- 
ered into  the  church  from  the  village  and  its  vicinity  were 
few  and  feeble,  and  the  prospect  of  building  up  the  church 
appeared  not  very  encouraging.  A  Christian  man  with  his 
young  wife  moved  into  the  village,  in  order  to  be  near  his 
business.  He  possessed  education,  wealth,  character.  "Would 
he  unite  with  that  little  church,  and  give  his  influence  for  its 
prosperity  ?  Much  in  the  future  of  that  church  and  commu- 
nity depended  on  the  answer  to  this  question.  Five  miles 
distant  was  a  strong  church,  where  was  the  early  home  of  his 
wife,  where  he  would  be  greeted  by  many  friends,  and  where 
be  would  meet  cultivated  society.  But  he  decided  at  once  to 
cast  his  lot  with  the  infant  church,  where  he  had  gone  to  re- 
side, and  to  identify  himself  with  its  interests.  He  was  a 
regular  attendant  upon  its  meetings.  Sabbath  and  week-days, 
and  took  part  in  them.  A  young  minister  was  settled  ;  and 
he  stood  by  him  with  a  constant  co-operation  and  sympathy. 
Under  the  faithful  preaching  of  the  Gospel,  and  other  means 
of  grace,  conversions  began  to  take  place,  and  erelong  they 
became  frequent,  and  numbers  were  added  to  the  church. 
He  was  active,  meanwhile,  but  never  assumed  pre-eminence 
among  the  brethren.  The  hired  hall  was  inconvenient  for 
their  congregation.  When  it  was  felt  that  a  house  of  wor- 
ship ought  to  be  built,  he  was  ready  to  bear  a  liberal  propor- 
tion of  the  expense.  That  house  was  the  scene  of  the  Holy 
Spirit's  works.  From  time  to  time  converts  were  multiplied. 
And  in  ten  years  that  little  flock  became  a  strong  and  flour- 
ishing church.  It  will  not  be  supposed  that  the  spiritual  in- 
terests of  that  good  man,  or  his  family,  suffered  by  his  sacri- 
fices of  ease  and  money  in  aid  of  that  Christian  enterprise. 


BUILDING   AROUND   HOME.  89 

And  it  may  well  be  doubted  wlietber  his  usefulness  or  his 
happiness  in  his  church  relations  was  increased  when  he  re- 
moved to  one  of  our  larger  towns. 

It  might  seem  censorious  to  describe  one  of  those  cases 
which  stand  in  striking  contrast  with  the  example  just 
sketched,  and  to  attempt  to  assign  the  motives  which  lead 
some  good  men  to  pass  the  doors  of  a  feeble  church  of  their 
own  denomination,  or  to  travel  a  much  greater  distance  to  a 
large  and  strong  church,  while  the  little  band  in  their  own 
neighborhood  is  left  to  struggle,  and,  perhaps,  to  perish. 
They  may  have  strong  reasons  for  their  course  ;  but  are  their 
reasons  sufficient  to  justify  them  in  going  abroad  to  give  to 
the  rich,  while  they  hide  their  eyes  from  the  poor  at  home  ? 
Are  they  doing  the  greatest  amount  of  good  in  their  power  ? 
There  are  many  weak  churches  in  the  oldest  sections  of  our 
country,  which  need,  as  helpers,  all  the  good  people  within 
their  limits.  They  have  their  fields  to  cultivate  for  Christ, 
and  their  success  depends  on  the  unity  and  co-operation  of  all 
the  individuals  and  fiimilies  of  like  Christian  faith. 

Ten  years  ago  a  missionary  field  in  the  heart  of  this  Com- 
monwealth was  a  desolation  over  which  the  few  Christians  in 
it  sighed  and  prayed,  and  the  surrounding  churches  surveyed 
it  with  concern.  It  embraced  a  territory  of  about  four  miles 
square,  with  a  scattered  population  of  about  three  hundred 
and  fifty.  Very  few  of  the  people  attended  public  worship 
anywhere,  and  the  churches  around  them  sent  but  little  in- 
fluence into  those  limits.  The  neighboring  churches  were^ 
at  length,  called  to  consult  and  advise  about  organizing  a 
little  company  of  fourteen  persons  into  a  Congregational 
church,  and  they  agreed  in  the  judgment  that  a  church 
ought  to  be  formed  there.  A  plain  but  comfortable  house 
of  worship  was  in  readiness  to  receive  the  congregation.  At 
length  a  pastor,  with  qualifications  and  devotion  to  his  work 
worthy  of  universal  respect,  was  settled,  for  whose  support 
the  Homo  IMissionary  Society  appropriated  a  liberal  sum  in 
aid  of  the  people.     The  call  of  duty  was  urgent  for  the  union 


90  HOUSEHOLD   READING. 

of  Chiistians  and  for  co-operation.  Yet,  of  the  twenty-nine 
Congregational  professors  in  that  territory,  only  fourteen  are 
connected  with  that  little  church.  A  few  others,  among 
whom  are  the  ten  Methodist  and  Baptist  professors,  attend 
with  them  a  part  of  the  time.  Some  excellent  families  go 
several  miles  to  other  towns,  where  the  congregations  are 
large  and  strong.  About  one  half  of  the  persons  in  that  ter- 
ritory wholly  neglect  public  worship.  Only  about  one  fifth 
on  the-  average,  by  actual  count,  were,  the  last  year,  in  the 
sanctuary.  Of  the  one  hundred  and  nine  children  between 
five  and  twenty  years  of  age,  seventy-three  were  in  no  Sab- 
bath school,  yet  the  population  is  nearly  all  American  and 
Protestant.  Surely  that  is  a  field  for  self-denying  Christian 
effort.  It  ought  not  to  be  passed  by  and  neglected,  for  error 
and  irreligion  to  occupy  with  their  noxious  growth.  Other 
places  not  a  few  are,  as  to  the  main  facts,  similarly  situated ; 
a  little  church  stands  in  suffering  need  of  the  lielp  of  all  the 
good  men  and  women  within  its  proper  territorial  limits,  and 
may  fail  in  its  undertaking,  if  they  stand  aloof,  looking  on  to 
see  it  struggle  and  die.  It  is  clear  that  vast  interests  depend 
on  securing  this  unity.  The  union  of  Christians  in  such 
localities  greatly  strengthens  the  hands  and  hearts  of  the 
minister. 

A  prudent  man  may  discover  economical  reasons  for  help- 
ing to  sustain  the  institutions  of  the  Gospel  in  the  vicinity  of 
his  home  and  property.  But  the  consideration  which  should 
have  immeasurably  more  weight  with  a  Christian  man  is, 
that,  by  identifying  himself  with  the  feeble  band  in  his  neigh- 
borhood, he  is  likely  to  increase  greatly  his  usefulness  and  to 
be  the  means  of  winning  souls,  and  of  building  up  the  king- 
dom of  Christ.  We  can  have  no  hesitation  in  judging  what 
Harlan  Page  or  Felix  Nefif  would  do  in  such  a  case.  One  of 
the  questions  which  every  Christian  should  often  be  propos- 
ing to  himself  is,  "  What  opportunities  have  I  to  do  good  ?  '' 
And  the  opportunities  which  are  offered,  whether  in  connec- 
tion with  feeble  home-missionary  churches  or  in  irreligious 


REPKOVED   BY   A   CHILD.  91 

neighborhoods,  and  neglected  comers,  should  be  earnestly 
used.     It  is  wrong  and  unsafe  to  slight  them. 

The  good  man  who  enlists  heartily  in  this  Christian  work, 
helping,  to  the  extent  of  his  ability,  tlie  little  praying  and 
struggling  band  to  build  up  the  kingdom  of  Christ  in  his 
neighborhood,  may  confidently  expect  the  blessing  of  God  on 
himself  and  his  family.  This  course  may  cost  him  sacrifice 
and  self-denial ;  it  may  seem  like  depriving  his  children  of 
greater  privileges  of  society  and  advancement  which  they 
might  enjoy  elsewhere ;  but,  if  they  have  the  blessing  of  the 
Lord,  they  attain  the  best  privilege  and  riches.  "  He  that 
hath  a  bountiful  eye  shall  be  blessed."  "  Whosoever  will 
save  his  life,  shall  lose  it ;  and  whosoever  will  lose  his  life  for 
my  sake  shall  find  it." 


REPROVED    BY   A   CHILD. 

IT  was  Saturday  night,  and  I  sat  with  baby  on  my  bosom, 
and  a  book  in  my  hand,  so  absorbed  in  its  interesting 
pages  that  the  numerous  cares  which  had  just  been  circling 
around  me  were  forgotten.  My  little  son  of  four  years  came 
from  the  bathing-room,  and,  dropping  upon  his  knees  before 
me,  commenced  his  evening  prayer.  I  knew  that  he  had 
entered  my  chamber,  and  was  half  conscious  of  the  object  of 
his  kneeling  position,  and  yet,  so  absorbed  was  my  mind  in 
the  book  that  it  was  not  diverted  therefrom,  until  the  little 
brown  head  was  raised,  and  two  large  blue  eyes  looked  sol- 
emnly up,  while  in  a  slow  tone,  all  weighty  with  reproof,  he 
said,  '•'•Do  you  hioiu  that  I  am  praying  to  Grod,  mother?  " 

I  dropped  the  boolc,  laid  my  hand  upon  the  bowed  head, 
and,  holding  the  little  clasped  hands  as  usual,  listened  with 
an  humbled  spirit,  while  my  little  son  lisped  forth,  "  Our 
Father."     When  he  had  kissed  "  good  night,"  and  gone  to 


9^  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

his  pillow,  there  was  a  shade  of  sadness  on  my  heart,  and  it 
had  no  relish  for  the  Tolume  before  me  ;  for  my  thoughts 
dwelt  upon  the  inattention  of  myself  and  others  when  prayer 
is  offered  to  Heaven.  How  often  at  the  family  altar,  at  the 
prayer-meeting,  and  the  Sabbath  worship,  while  one  is  voice 
for  many,  does  the  mind  wander,  and  few,  very  few  heart- 
desires  rise  up  with  the  offered  petition. 

'■'•Bo  you  know  that  I  am  praying  to  GodV 

Reader,  may  not  those  reproving  words  of  a  little  child 
sometimes  strike  with  force  across  your  heart  ?  Sometimes 
be  a  "  flaming  sword"  to  turn  back  your  wandering  thoughts 
and  direct  them  to  Him  who  requireth  heart  worship  ?  Hap- 
py for  us  if  we  so  "  apply  our  hearts  "  as  not  to  deserve  the 
reproof  which  fell  ffom  sacred  lips,  "  This  people  honoreth 
me  with  their  lips,  but  their  heart  is  far  from  me." 


SHALL  I  QUIT   THE   MINISTEY? 

[Extract,  in  substance,  from  a  pastor's  private  journal.] 

SHALL  I  quit  the  ministry  ?     A  question  which  I  have 
often  pondered.     This  year  I  deem  the  crucial  year  with 

me.     0  God,  let  its  issues  be  right !     I  have  been years 

in  the  ministry.  They  have  been  comparatively  barren  years. 
Why  ?  I  will  ponder  that  question  solemnly  and  prayerful- 
ly. Two  persons,  at  least,  I  think  God  has  made  me  the 
agent,  or  one  agent,  in  bringing  into  his  kingdom.  They  at- 
tribute their  conversion  to  my  sermons  and  personal  conver- 
sation. A  few  who  "  have  a  hope,"  both  young  converts  and 
some  of  several  years'  standing  outside  the  church,  I  have 
induced  to  confess  Christ  publicly  in  the  way  which  he  has 
appointed.  Many  Christians,  and  quite  often,  have  expressed 
interest  in  my  sermons  and  gratitude  for  them.  This  is 
about  all.     Yet  Brother  ,  who  has  been  longer  in  the 


SHALL  I   QUIT   THE   MNISTRY  ?  93 

ministry  than  I  have,  in  a  larger  church,  with  a  larger  salary, 
and  more  popular,  says  that  he  does  not  know  that  he  was 
ever  the  means  of  the  conversion  of  more  than  one  soul,  if  of 
that  one.  Ought  he  to  quit,  too  ?  And  all  ministers  who 
cannot  show  a  brighter  record  ? 

There  is  a  great  demand  for  ministers.  It  is  said  that  they 
are  scarce.  Then  is  it  better  for  me  to  preacli,  if  only  to 
keep  a  church  and  congregation  together  ?  Not  all  have  the 
same  work  to  do.  Not  all  have  the  same  talent.  I  would 
like  to  be  a  "  revival  preacher,"  and  see  sinners  flocking  to 
Christ  under  my  ministrations.  Is  it  pride  ?  An  unholy 
ambition  ?  How  of  Payson  and  others  who  have  cried, 
"  Give  me  souls,  or  I  die  "  ?  Thus  I  have  been  persuading 
myself  for  these  years.  Some  must  keep  the  camp,  while  the 
army  is  in  hot  battle.  Some  must  guard  the  treasure  al- 
ready collected.  Some  must  tend  the  flock  already  gathered 
for  them.  Wliich  is  the  more  important  work  ?  Which  the 
more  rewardful  ?  The  promise  is  to  those  who  convert  sin- 
ners.    James  v.  19,  20  ;  Dan.  xii.  3. 

I  have  done  some  good  in  awakening  an  interest  in  the 
Sabbath  school.     The  children  are  my  friends.     The  hearts 

of  the  young  people,  especially  at ,  have  been  with  me 

quite  as  generally  as  I  could  expect ;  more  so  than  with 
many  ministers.  In  repairs  of  the  church  edifice  and  mak- 
ing the  prayer-room  pleasant  and  attractive,  I  am  not  with- 
out honor.  But  is  this  of  much  value  as  part  of  a  minister's 
work  ? 

Is  there  a  surplus,  or  a  deficit,  of  ministers  ?  It  is  certain 
that  a  large  number  of  capable  and  worthy  brethren  are  out  of 

a  place.     Professors  B and  F allege  that  there  is  a 

scarcity.  They  plead  earnestly,  like  those  who  know  and  feel 
what  they  say,  for  men.  Secretary  Thurston  of  Maine,  ditto. 
But  they  all  want  men  of  the  right  stamp,  men  who  will 
"  take  "  with  the  people.     Am  I  such  a  one  ?     Plainly  not. 

Phrenologist  F said  of  me,  when  a  lad,  that  I  would  make 

an  orator.    That  only  jsroves  that  his  "  science  "  is  "  falsely  so 


94  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

called."  I  am  not  an  orator.  I  am  conscious  of  that.  1 
have  no  element  of  graceful  oratory  and  persuasive  elo- 
quence.    But says  that  my  sermons  are  good,  and  my 

manner  better  than  that  of  half  the  ministers.    (So  much  the 

worse  for  them.)     But  she  is  partial.     Rev. ,  spending 

his  vacation  with  us  and  sitting  in  my  audience  for  several 
Sabbaths,  said  to  his  relatives  that  my  sermons  were  full  of 
thought.  But  probably  he  wished  to  compliment  or  encour- 
age his  friends,  who  are  also  good  friends  to  me. 

But  the  doubt  continually  recurs.  Sinners  are  not  con- 
verted. I  have,  then,  evidently  little  power  over  men.  I 
have  not  facility  and  power  in  private  appeal.  I  have  little 
influence  in  community.  My  presence  and  my  word  do  not 
carry  weight  to  the  judgment,  the  conscience,  the  heart,  and 
the  will  of  men,  so  as  to  influence  their  conduct.  I  am  not  a 
leader,  certainly  ;  I  am  not  sure  that  I  count  much  more  in 
community  than  any  other  individual. 

"  Well,  then,  if  reasoning  fail,  follow  the  indications  of 
Providence."  That  has  been  my  rule,  but  I  begin  to  ques- 
tion its  safety.  The  inner  spirit  (the  Holy  Spirit  ?)  some- 
times says  that  we  ought  to  go  across  Providence,  for  God 
sometimes  purposely  obstructs  our  way  in  the  right  direction, 
or  tries  us  by  an  open  door  which  we  should  not  enter. 

W says,  "  You  have  always  had  a  place  to  preach  (with 

some  exception),  though  not  always  an  agreeable  place. 
You  have  always  made  friends.  It  was  certainly  a  kind 
Providence  who  opened  the  door  just  in  that  way  and  at  that 

time  at ,  and ."     But  was  it  not  equally  Providence 

who  sent  me  away,  or  allowed  me  to  be  sent  away,  from 

and so  unpleasantly  ?     I  have  doubts.     There  are  two 

sides  to  that  question.  If  God  had  indeed  put  me  into  the 
ministry,  would  he  allow  the  bulls  of  Bashan  to  toss  me  about 
on  their  horns  apparently  for  mere  sport,  or  at  least  with  indif- 
ference to  my  feelings,  my  purse,  and  the  comfort  of  my  fam- 
ily ?  And  every  removal  brings  me  a  feeling  of  desolation  and 
an  ever-deeper  consciousness  of  the  loss  of  reputation  and 
influence. 


A   SOLDIER'S   FUNERAL.  95 

My  most  troublesome  argument,  that  wliicli  hitherto  has 
restrained  me  from  abandoning  my  profession,  is  the  remem- 
brance of  what  I  always  believed  and  do  believe  to  be  God's 
especial  providences  in  bringing  me  through  poverty  and  hin- 
drances, through  college  and  seminary  and  into  the  ministry. 
1  dare  not  deny  that  I  proceeded  from  step  to  step  almost  in 
the  darkness  and  in  opposition  to  flattering  inducements  from 
other  quarters,  putting  my  trust  in  God  to  help  me,  and  that 
he  always  delivered  me  from  my  straits.  Was  all  that  self- 
deception  or  self-will  ? 

And  now  my  family.  How  are  those  little  ones  to  be  edu- 
cated for  usefulness  in  the  Master's  vineyard  ?  My  salary 
this  year  is  less  than  my  necessary  expenses.  Were  I  to  die 
to-day,  my  family  would  be  left  nearly  penniless.  I  was  of- 
fered a  fine  salary  in  another  business.  I  could  certainly 
gain  a  better  support  now  by  change  of  employment. 

But,  0  God,  my  Heavenly  Father,  thou  art  my  owner  and 
righteous  Sovereign.  Use  me  for  thine  own  glory.  Teach 
me  thy  holy  will.  I  have  been  negligent,  unfaithful,  unde- 
vout.  By  thy  grace  leading  me,  I  would  love  thee  perfectly 
and  follow  thee  fully. 


A    SOLDIER'S    FUNERAL. 

THE  ordinary  routine  of  campaigning  of  course  goes  on. 
We  have  few  hardships  ;  the  food  is  good  and  abundant 
now  ;  the  climate  is  delightful  ;  there  is  little  sickness. 

But  this  routine  is  sometimes  changed.  It  was  to-day.  In 
the  midst  of  active  drill,  the  step  ceased,  the  bugles  were  si- 
lent, the  ranks  took  their  iron  position.  It  was  when  the  band 
of  another  regiment  passed  by,  ^pouring  out  their  melancholy 
wailing  for  the  dead.  It  was  a  soldier's  funeral,  and  among 
the  thousands  in  our  camps,  there  was  a  reverent  silence. 


96  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

My  thoughts  went  back  to  the  first  funeral  at  which 
I  had  officiated.  It  was  at  Harper's  Ferry,  while  our  regi- 
ment occupied  that  post.  There  had  been  brought  into  our 
hospital  a  soldier  of  the  Fifteenth  Pennsylvania,  then  on  its 
way  home  at  the  expiration  of  its  three  months'  service, 
whom  that  regiment  left  with  us  one  afternoon  as  they  passed 
through  the  place.  That  evening,  as  I  passed  at  a  late  hour 
through  the  hospital,  I  noticed  this  new  face,  and  on  inquiry 
found  the  facts.  He  was  sick  with  typhoid  fever,  very  sick, 
—  little  more  than  a  boy  in  years.  He  was  to  me,  then, 
nameless,  not  one  of  ours,  but  he  was  a  suffering  soldier ;  — 
God  bless  every  one  of  such !  I  did  not  press  him  to  speak, 
but  he  recognized  the  name  of  our  Saviour,  and  looked  up  as 
if  waiting  to  hear!  It  was  too  late  to  reason,  too  late  for  hu- 
man comfort.  I  dared  say  little,  but  I  could  not  but  think 
that  some  friends,  father,  mother,  perhaps  a  yet  closer  one, 
whom  I  never  saw  and  doubtless  never  shall  see,  whose  very 
residence  I  know  nothing  of,  might  be  glad  to  know  that 
some  of  the  blessed  promises  of  our  Lord  were  whispered  in 
his  ear,  and  that  a  few  words  of  prayer  asked,  for  the  soul  of 
this  dying  man,  whose  hand  I  held,  the  favor  of  our  Father 
and  our  Saviour.     That  night  he  died. 

He  was  buried  the  next  evening,  in  the  way  of  soldiers, 
which,  to  one  unaccustomed  to  the  sight,  is  deeply  interest- 
ing. A  suitable  escort  (for  a  private,  eight  rank  and  file, 
properly  commanded)  is  formed  in  two  ranks  opposite  to- the 
tent  of  the  deceased,  with  shouldered  arms  and  bayonets  un- 
fixed ;  on  the  appearance  of  the  coffin,  the  soldiers  present 
arms ;  the  procession  then  forms,  on  each  side  of  the  coffin 
being  three  bearers,  without  arms  ;  immediately  preceding 
are  tlie  eight  soldiers  with  arms  reversed  (the  musket  under 
the  left  arm,  barrel  downward,  and  steadied  by  the  right 
hand  behind  the  back)  ;  in  front  is  the  music,  than  whose 
dirge  no  sadder  sounds  ever  fell  upon  my  ear,  as  they  pro- 
ceed to  the  place  of  burial.  With  slow  and  measured  step, 
and  muffled  drum,  they  move.     At  the  grave,  the  coffin  is 


A   SOLDIER'S   FUNERAL.  97 

placed  upon  one  side,  the  soldiers  resting  upon  their  arms, 
the  muzzle  upon  the  foot,  the  hands  clasped  upon  the  butt, 
and  the  head  bowed  upon  the  hands.  The  chaplain,  who  has 
walked  in  the  rear  of  the  coffin,  conducts  the  burial  service  ; 
"  earth  to  earth,  ashes  to  ashes,  dust  to  dust."  Three  vol- 
leys are  fired  over  the  grave,  and  the  last  kindness  to  the 
comrade  is  over.  The  graveyard  left,  immediately  the  band 
strikes  up  a  cheerful  air,  and  take  their  way  back  to  camp 
and  to  living  duties. 

It  was  thus  we  buried  the  stranger  soldier.  He  had  no 
friend  who  knew  him,  there.  No  kindred  wept  by  the  side 
of  the  grave.  His  bed  was  made  alone,  in  a  deserted  grave- 
yard, on  the  bold  cliff  that  overlooks  the  two  rivers  united  in 
the  mighty  stream  which  pours  its  affluence  into  the  Atlan- 
tic. But  the  soldiers  subdued  their  roughness,  and  tenderly 
laid  him  down.  The  frequent  oath  was  unheard.  The  sol- 
emn silence  was  scarcely  broken  by  the  low  words  of  com- 
mand.. When  the  sharp  volleys  echoed  up  and  down  the 
valleys,  the  shadows  were  already  fallen  on  the  lordly  rivers, 
the  Potomac  and  Shenandoah,  rolling  by,  far  below  us  ;  but 
the  gorgeous  evening  sunlight  was  richly  clothing  the  dark 
green  forests  of  both  Maryland  and  Virginia  heights,  towering 
over  us.  His  grave  was  cut  in  a  hard  and  rocky  soil ;  but 
out  of  that  soil  the  evergreen  was  thriving  and  the  wild-flow- 
ers perfumed  the  air.  It  was  on  the  very  day  his  regiment 
was  mustered  out  of  service  that  we  buried  him,  and,  turn- 
ing backward  to  our  fragile  homes,  found  the  order  already 
given,  "Ready  to  march,"  and  soon  we  struck  our  tents  and 
forded  the  dark  and  foaming  river  which  separated  the  Rebel 
from  the  loyal  State.  He  had  forded  a  darker  and  rouglier 
river,  which,  we  hoped  as  we  left  him,  no  longer  kept  him  in 
a  world  of  sin,  and  out  of  the  land  of  perfect  glory. 

And  so  will  throngs  be  buried,  in  this  sad  and  mournful 
war.  But  out  of  the  great  clouds  of  private  sorrow  will  rise 
the  triumph  of  our  country's  glory. 


98  HOUSEHOLD   READING. 


TEXTUAL    SONG. 

"  Thine  eyes  shall  see  the  king  in  his  beauty ;  they  shall  behold  the  Ifmd  that 
is  very  far  off."  —  Isaiah  xxxiii.  17. 

0  CHRISTIAN  traveller !  findest  thou  thy  way 
By  trouble's  thorns  beset,  that  tear  and  sting  ? 
Walk'st  thou  in  darkness,  longing  for  the  day  ? 

And  hath  complaining  quenched  thy  power  to  sing  ? 

Ever  on  human  hearts  unwelcome  falls 

The  rod ;  nor  willing  are  we  taught  to  weep : 

Yet  cheer  thee  !  mourning  oft  to  gladness  calls  ; 
For  "  so  He  giveth  his  beloved  sleep." 

Think,  when  thou  grievest  'neath  a  clouded  sky, 
Behind  that  pall  still  shines  the  blessed  sun ; 

"With  Faith's  strong  staff  ascend  the  mountain  high. 
The  storm  's  beneath  thee  when  the  summit 's  won. 

Lest,  haply,  whilst  thou  lingerest  in  the  vale, 

And  mourn'st  the  darkness  that  thou  canst  not  bide, 

A  voice  of  warning  should  thine  ear  assail,  — 

"What  dost  thou  here,  O  Christian?  here  's  thy  guide!  " 

Hope  !  for  thy  tearful  eye  shall  yet  behold 
The  glorious  King  in  all  his  beauty  dressed ; 

And  the  bright  land  with  garniture  of  gold 
Awaits  at  last  to  give  thy  spirit  rest. 


OBTAINING   HELP   IN   THE   COUNTRY.  99 


OBTAINING  HELP  IN  THE   COUNTRY. 

Scene. —  A  Parlor,  five  miles  from  Newburyport.    Bridget  seated  in  the  easy-chair. 
Enter  the  Lady  of  the  House. 

BRIDGET.  (^Briskly,  ivitJiout  rising.')  Good  morning, 
ma'am. 

Lady.  (^Standing.)  Good  morning.  Will  you  tell  me 
your  name  and  errand  ? 

B.  Sure,  Bridget  O'Calligan  's  my  name,  ma'am ;  the 
same  that 's  walked  all  the  way  from  the  city  to  see  ye. 

L.    QKhidhj.')   Tell  me  how  I  can  serve  you,  Bridget. 

B.  Indade,  ma'am,  if  you  plase,  and  it 's  me  that 's  come 
to  say  I  'm  willing  to  sarve  yoursilf. 

L.  0  yes,  I  understand  ;  my  husband  was  inquiring  in 
the  city  for  a  servant ;  and  you  would  like  the  place. 

B.  I  'm  not  so  sure  but  I  might,  if  ye  'd  make  it  for  me 
interest  to  go  so  far  out.  It 's  Margaret  Degnan  (she  that 
lives  with  his  riverence.  Doctor  Burleigh)  told  me  you  's  dis- 
trist  for  help  ;  so  I  called  to  see  his  lady  about  ye,  and  she 
gave  ye  such  a  good  character,  and  ricommended  ye  so  high, 
that  I  thought  ye  'd  jist  suit  me  ;  so  I  've  brought  me  things 
(^slioiving  a  bundle  from  under  her  cloak),  and  if  ye  can  ac- 
commodate me  in  rispect  to  the  work  and  the  wages,  I  '11  be 
after  stopping  with  ye. 

L.  (^Smiling.)  How  could  I  accommodate  you  as  to  the 
work  ? 

B.  Well,  it  is  n't  Bridget  O'Calligan  would  be  hard  upon 
so  winsome  a  lady,  —  ye  looks  youngish,  too,  and  delekit- 
like  ;  but  I  suppose  ye  'd  be  after  wanting  to  do  the  nicest  of 
yer  own  cooking. 

L.   I  have  done  so  for  the  last  four  years. 

B.  ^Brightening  np.)  Sure,  and  I  was  right.  Yer  house 
(^glancing  around  the  parlors)  looks  nice.  I  suppose  ye  'd  be 
after  taking  charge  to  kape  it  clain  and  in  order,  yersilf,  — 
except  the  kitchen. 


100  HOUSEHOLD  EEADING. 

L.   I  have  been  accustomed  to  do  so. 

B.  Yer  husband  's  the  minister,  they  said  ;  I  suppose  it  's 
'■  only  yersilf,  ma'am,  would  be  able  to  suit  him  to  his  linen. 

L.   You  are  right  again,  Bridget ;  my  husband's  linen  I 
i  never  trust  to  any  hands  but  my  own. 

B.  (Belighted?)  Sure,  ma'am,  I  'm  thinking  Mrs.  Dr. 
Burleigh  did  n't  ricommend  ye  without  rason.  Have  ye  any 
childer  ? 

i.   Yes,  two  boys,  six  and  eight  years  old. 

B.   And  ye  would  n't  be  after  axin  me  to  mind  them  ? 
(^Ye'd  be  expectin'  to  mind  yer  own  boys,  of  course? 

L.    Certainly,  that  is  altogether  customary. 

B.  Faith,  ma'am,  I  'd  like  to  be  living  with  so  kind  and 
hilpful  a  lady.     What 's  been  yer  wages,  ma'am  ? 

L.  Nothing.  I  have  been  accustomed  to  work  without 
wages. 

B.    (^Bewildered.')    Ma'am  ? 

L.   I  have  done  the  work  of  my  family  unaided  for  the 
*•  ^last  four  years,  and  have  therefore  neither  paid  nor  received 
wages. 

B.    (^Astonished.)    Sure,  ma'am,  are  ye  after  bein'  one  of 

that  sort  ?    Ye  don't  look  like  it ;  I'd  niver  a  thought  it. 

;         L.   I  am  precisely  that   sort,  I  assure   you,  Bridget.     I 

-  "■  choose  to  have  either  the  comfort  of  doing  my  work  myself,  or 

the  comfort  of  having  it  done  for  me.     You  see  I  should  have 

neither  if  I  employed  you.     Good  morning. 

JB.   Faith,  it 's  the  truth  ye  spake,  ma'am.     Good  day  to 
^ye. 

B.  (Soliloquizing  as  she  goes.)  Sure,  and  what  should  a 
dacent  girl  be  after  leavin'  the  world  to  live  in  the  country 
for,  if  not  for  large  wages  and  small  work.  The  saints  sind 
her  help  ;  but  it  's  not  for  the  like  o'  sich  the  O'Calligans 
-works. 


ZIONWAED.  101 


ZIONWARD. 

WHAT  is  it  to  be  a  Christian?  To  be  a  Christian  is  to 
do  tlie  will  of  God,  it  is  to  honor  and  serve  and 
please  him.  A  man  whose  governing  purpose  is  to  do  what 
God  commands  because  he  has  commanded  it,  whose  leading 
desire  is  to  do  what  is  right  in  his  sight,  and  be  approved  by 
him,  is  a  true  Christian. 

The  soul  can  be  under  the  power  of  but  one  governing 
purpose.  This  law  of  our  moral  being  the  Saviour  affirmed 
when  he  said,  "  No  man  can  serve  two  masters."  The  affec- 
tions cannot  be  placed  supremely  upon  two  objects  at  the 
same  time  ;  and  it  is  the  controlling  choice,  or  purpose, 
which  decides  the  moral  character. 

In  the  moral  world  there  are  two  ends,  incompatible  with 
each  other,  between  which  every  man  must  choose.  These 
two  ends,  irreconcilable  as  objects  of  supreme  pursuit,  are  self 
and  Cfod,  and  the  first  is  the  centre  of  affection  and  aim  until 
it' is  displaced  by  the  last.  The  forms  of  self-gratification  are 
various,  but  in  some  form  every  man  lives  for  himself  until 
he  begins  to  live  for  God.  He  consults  his  natural  inclina- 
tions, and  follows  his  personal  preferences  in  disregard  of  the 
pleasure  of  his  Maker.  He  seeks  his  own  pleasure,  and  this 
is  his  governing  principle. 

When  he  becomes  a  Christian,  he  seeks  as  constantly  to 
please  the  Lord,  subjecting  his  own  wishes  to  the  Divine  law. 
This  is  now  his  rule  of  obedience,  this  is  his  new  governing 
principle.  He  passes  out  from  the  dominion  of  the  other, 
and  comes  under  the  dominion  of  this.  In  place  of  a  para- 
mount desire  to  have  his  personal  wishes  gratified,  it  is  his 
ruling  purpose  to  do  what  the  Lord  requires,  whether  natu- 
rally agreeable  or  not.  He  accepts  a  new  master,  and  con- 
forms his  life  to  this  new  basis. 

This  habitual  conformity,  though  attended  with  occasional 


102  HOUSEHOLD  •  READING. 

defection,  is  decisive  of  his  real  character,  —  a  point  on  wliich 
human  judgment  is  often  uncharitable  and  unjust.  Let  the 
same  offence  be  committed  by  two  persons,  the  one  a  believer 
and  the  other  impenitent,  and  there  are  observers  who  are 
ready  to  say,  "  There  is  no  difference  between  these  persons  ; 
their  characters  are  alike  ;  they  differ  only  in  their  profes- 
sions.''^ There  is  this  vast  difference  between  them,  that 
the  sin  of  the  one  is  inconsistent  with  the  general  purpose 
and  tenor  of  his  life,  an  exception  to  the  known  law  of  his 
conduct,  a  deviation  from  his  principles  and  practices,  felt  to 
be  such  by  those  who  know  him,  and  as  such  lamented 'by 
himself  in  the  hour  of  reflection  with  pain  and  penitence  ; 
and  the  sin  of  the  other  is  in  keeping  with  his  life,  is  not  re- 
garded by  himself  or  others  as  an  inconsistency,  and  is  not 
remembered  and  confessed  by  him  with  grief  as  a  sin  against 
God.  The  sin  of  the  believer,  though  the  same  outwardly,  is 
greater  than  that  of  the  other,  for  he  sins  against  greater 
light  and  obligation  ;  but  he  is  not  a  worse  man  than  the 
other,  for  m  judging  fairly  of  the  man,  we  take  into  our  esti- 
mate the  general  drift  and  current  of  his  life,  his  prevailing 
aim  and  habit,  —  we  do  not  judge  him  by  his  failings  alone. 
There  is  no  fouler  double  crime  recorded  in  the  Old  Tes- 
tament than  that  which  was  perpetrated  by  King  David  ;  but 
he  was  a  good  man,  notwithstanding,  and  the  Fifty-first  Psalm 
is  a  record  of  the  feelings  of  a  good  man  when  he  has  been 
betrayed  into  heinous  sin  ;  and  God,  who  chastised  and  cor- 
rected his  servant,  did  not  withdraw  his  confidence  and  favor. 
The  denial  of  Christ  by  the  Apostle  Peter  stands  in  the  front 
rank  of  offences  recorded  in  the  New  Testament ;  but.  the 
disciple  who  wept  bitterly  over  his  fall  was  a  true  believer 
and  loved  his  Lord  ;  he  did  not  lose  his  place  as  the  leader 
of  the  faithful  band,  and  his  memory  is  enshrined  in  the  con- 
fidence of  the  Christian  world.  Saul,  the  king  of  Israel,  and 
Judas  the  traitor  apostle,  though  their  bosoms  were  lacerated 
by  dreadful  remorse,  felt  no  penitential  relentings  and  griev- 
ings  for  sin,  for  their  souls  had  never  been  pervaded  by  the 


ZIONWARD.  103 

same  principle,  nor  their  lives  consecrated  to  the  same  end, 
as  those  of  the  other  king  and  the  other  apostle.  This  is  the 
heaven-wide  difference  between  these  characters  and  the 
classes  represented  by  them.  It  defines  the  Christian  believ- 
er, in  distinction  from  the  impenitent  sinner,  as  one  whose 
governing  purpose  is  to  do  what  is  right  in  the  sight  of  God, 
to  please  God  rather  than  himself,  or,  better,  to  find  his  own 
pleasure  in  pleasing  God. 

JVliat  hinders  the  sinner's  conversion?  If  conversion  to 
Christ  consists  in  a  change  of  the  governing  purpose,  what 
prevents  the  sinner  from  forsaking  his  present  course  and 
entering  upon  the  new  life,  to  which,  through  Christ  he  is 
invited  ?  There  is  no  obstacle  out  of  his  own  heart,  noth- 
ing which  could  prove  a  hindrance  without  the  consent  of 
his  will.  Estranged  from  heaven  and  wedded  to  earth,  he 
shrinks  from  tlie  step  demanded  of  him,  and  lacks  the  moral 
resolution  to  change  his  course.  This  is  his  sole  difficulty, 
and  the  more  unable  he  has  become,  the  more  guilty  he  is. 
It  is  this  which  renders  Divine  interposition  necessary,  and 
makes  his  case  practically  hopeless  without.  The  Holy  Spirit 
is  given  to  banish  his  insensibility,  to  convince  him  of  his 
guilt,  to  conquer  his  reluctance  and  repugnance,  to  awaken 
him  to  penitence  and  faith  ;  and  the  greater  the  necessity  of 
the  Spirit,  the  more  stubborn  the  depravity  of  the  sinner. 

This  explains  the  distress  which  sometimes  precedes  con- 
version, —  a  very  different  feeling  from  the  tenderness  which 
follows  it.  It  is  the  fruit  of  conviction,  but  it  is  a  struggle 
against  conviction.  It  is  an  unrelenting  conflict  between 
conviction  and  passion.  The  Holy  Spirit  is  striving,  and  is 
resisted  and  grieved.  The  sinner  refuses  compliance  with 
his  plain  obligations,  and  is  unhappy  because  he  is  unsubmis- 
sive. 

The  radical  mistake  of  the  awakened  sinner,  before  submis- 
sion, is,  tliat  he  attempts  to  be  saved  in  a  self-righteous  way. 
It  is  the  dictate  of  the  natural  heart  to  proceed  in  the  work 
just  as  if  no  Saviour  had  been  provided  or  were  needed. 


104  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

Man  was  created  the  subject  of  law,  and  was  designed  to  be 
saved  through  obedience  to  law.  Heaven  was  the  promised 
reward  of  obedience,  and  would  have  been  his  inheritance 
had  he  retained  his  innocence.  By  his  fall  he  has  forfeited 
his  title  to  it,  but  in  his  perverseness  and  pride  he  will  persist 
in  an  attempted  legal  justification,  not  seeing  that  he  has 
ruined  himself  and  blighted  his  immortal  prospects  and  hopes. 
This  recovery  can  now  be  affected  by  grace  alone,  but  he  is 
filled  with  the  purpose  to  become  his  own  saviour.  Were  it 
not  for  this,  his  conversion  would  instantly  follow  his  convic- 
tion. But  a  Saviour  who  shall  take  him  without  preparation 
or  qualification,  and  confer  a  salvation  which  is  wholly  of 
grace,  does  not  accord  with  his  legal  notions,  his  self-right- 
eous preferences.  And  so  he  enters  upon  the  impracticable 
work  of  self-qualification,  ignorant  that  Christ  is  the  end  of 
the  law  for  righteousness  to  every  one  that  believeth. 


THE    BROKEN    WAGON. 

A  COOL  breeze  was  blowing  from  the  west,  and  it  was  such 
a  fine  day,  that  I  thought  I  would  give  my  little  Jeanie  a 
nice  ride  in  her  willow  wagon.  She  enjoys  riding  exceedingly, 
and  laughs  and  chatters  all  the  while,  after  her  baby  fashion. 
I  had  been  drawing  her  about  some  time,  when  suddenly  one 
of  the  little  irons  broke,  which  fasten  the  wheels  to  the  axle- 
tree.  The  wheel  came  off,  and  down  went  the  wagon  upon 
one  side.  I  caught  baby,  however,  just  in  time  to  save  her 
iDeing  thrown  into  a  dirty  mud-puddle.  She  was  somewhat 
frightened,  but  did  not  mind  it  enough  to  cry. 

I  was  quite  a  distance  from  home,  and  hardly  knew  what 
to  do.  Finally  I  stepped  into  a  shop  close  by,  where  I  found 
a  man  at  work,  who  kindly  offered  to  assist  me.  He  labored 
a  long  time,  and  at  last  succeeded  in  tying  on  the  wheel  in 


THE   BROKEN   WAGON.  105 

sucli  a  manner  that,  with  a  little  care,  he  thought  I  should 
be  able  to  drag  Jeanie  safely  home.  I  had  walked  but  a  few 
steps,  however,  when  off  again  came  the  wheel.  I  then  took 
Jeanie  in  my  arms,  thinking  I  must  carry  her  home,  and 
leave  the  wagon,  though  I  had  some  fears  that  it  might  get 
injured  more,  standing  by  the  roadside.  We  had  reached  tlie 
railroad  bridge,  when  I  met  three  little  boys.  "  Ah,  my  little 
lads,"  said  I,  "  where  are  you  going  ?  " 

One  of  them,  a  bright-faced,  noble-looking  little  fellow,  im- 
mediately replied,  "  We  came  to  see  the  cars  go  under  the 
bridge." 

"  Why,  the  cars  have  just  gone,"  said  I,  "  and  you  are  too 
late ;  that  is  too  bad,  is  n't  it  ?  " 

"  0  no !  "  said  the  same  boy,  "  there  is  another  train  com- 
ing soon,  and  we  can  wait  for  that." 

I  then  turned  around,  so  as  to  be  able  to  see  them  all,  and 
told  them  that  I  had  been  giving  baby  a  ride,  and  had  broken 
her  wagon,  and  now  must  carry  her  in  my  arms,  and  leave 
the  wagon,  unless  they  would  get  it  home  for  me.  Two  of 
them  hung  their  heads,  as  if  they  did  n't  care  about  going ; 
but  the  little  bright-eyed  Freddy  (he  said  that  was  his  name) 
replied,  "  I  will  go,  if  you  will  tell  me  where  it  is." 

So  I  turned  back,  Freddy  following  me,  and  the  other  two 
boys  following  behind  him.  Pretty  soon  I  heard  one  of  them 
say,  in  a  hushed  voice,  "  Freddy,  I  sha'n't  go  to  help  her  carry 
it,  for  she  won't  give  me  anything  if  I  do,"  and  away  he 
started. 

"  I  don't  care  if  she  don't,"  said  Freddy ;  "  I  '11  go  and  help 
her  if  I  can,  won't  you,  Sammy  ?  " 

"I  don't  know,  —  yes,"  murmured  Sammy. 

By  this  time  we  had  reached  the  wagon,  and  I  asked  them 
again,  "  Had  you  just  as  lief  go  as  not,  my  little  boys  ?  " 

"  0  yes,  ma'am,  /had,"  replied  Freddy,  quickly ;  but  Sam- 
my hardly  knew  whether  he  had  or  not,  though  he  finally  an- 
swered, "  Yes,  ma'am." 

They  worked  pretty  hard,  but  we  got  home  at  last,  and 


106  HOUSEHOLD  EEADING. 

tliey  carried  the  wagon  into  the  house,  and  were  going  away. 
I  asked  them  to  wait  a  minute,  until  I  could  go  up  stairs.  I 
went  up,  intending  to  get  a  piece  of  silver  for  each  of  them, 
but  found  I  had  no  small  change  ;  so,  instead,  I  carried  down 
two  books. 

Now  one  of  these  books  happened  to  be  larger  than  the 
other,  and  I  thought  I  would  give  it  to  the  oldest  boy.  To 
my  disappointment,  however,  they  were  of  an  age.  So  I 
turned  to  Freddy,  and  asked  him  which  one  he  should  like 
most.  He  was  pointing  toward  the  larger  one,  when  Sammy 
spoke  quickly,  pointing  to  the  same  one,  saying,  '■'-Iioant  that 
one'.''''  Here  I  was  in  a  dilemma  again ;  but  I  was  soon  re- 
lieved, for  Freddy,  with  the  noble,  generous  spirit  which  ho 
had  exhibited  from  the  first,  tiu'ned  to  me,  and  said,  "  Sam- 
my prefers  that  one ;  he  may  have  it,  and  I  will  take  the 
other." 

I  was  astonished  to  see  such  a  spirit  of  unselfishness  in  a 
little  boy  eight  years  old.  I  was  delighted,  for  I  saw  that  he 
really  wanted  the  book,  but  for  Sammy's  sake  would  give  it 
up.  I  hesitated,  and  then  said  to  Sammy,  at  the  same  time 
opening  the  other  book,  and  showing  its  pictures,  "  Would  you 
not  rather  have  this,  and  let  Freddy  have  the  other  ? " 

"  No,"  he  replied,  "  I  want  that." 

I  hesitated  no  longer,  but  gave  Freddy  the  largest  book.  I 
gave  Sammy,  however,  a  pretty  paper  covered  with  woodcuts 
and  stories,  in  addition  to  the  other  book. 

Now  which  of  these  boys,  my  little  readers,  should  you  like 
best  for  a  playmate  and  a  friend  ?  The  one  who  would  n't  do 
a  kindness  for  a  person  in  trouble,  without  being  paid  for  it ; 
or  the  one  that  was  urged  to  do  it,  and  then  wanted  the  best 
book ;  or  the  noble  boy  that  was  willing  and  glad  to  do  it 
without  pay,  and  then,  at  last,  was  willing  to  give  up  the  book 
which  he  preferred  to  his  selfish  playmate  ? 


THE   PASTOR'S   REWARD.  107 


THE    PASTOR'S    REWARD. 

SOMEWHERE  we  have  read  a  story,  which  may  be  famil- 
iar to  many  readers,  of  a  French  pastor,  who  when  asked 
how  he  could  devote  his  talents  and  culture  to  his  flock  scat- 
tered among  the  mountains,  replied  by  narrating  this  incident 
in  his  experience. 

He  was  sent  for  by  a  dying  parishioner  living  at  a  distance. 
With  difficulty  he  reached  the  Immble  home  of  one  he  had 
led  into  "  the  green  pastures  and  by  the  still  waters  "  of  Di- 
vine love.  The  happy  saint  was  too  weak  to  speak,  but  beck- 
oned the  pastor  to  his  side.  He  took  his  seat  by  the  bed  of 
death.  This  was  not  enough  ;  the  departing  disciple  of  Jesus 
was  anxious  to  get  nearer  his  earthly  shepherd.  His  motions 
were  soon  understood,  and  his  head  laid  upon  the  faithful 
minister's  breast.  Then  with  a  smile  "  he  fell  asleep.'"'  The 
pastor  said  this  was  a  sufficient  reason,  a  rich  reward,  for  his 
self-denying  work. 

We  think  there  is  nothing,  excepting  a  young  convert's  re- 
joicing, that  is  so  satisfying  to  the  often-desponding  heart  of 
the  pastor,  as  the  loving,  grateful  recognition  of  the  dying 
Christian.  The  emphatic  command  of  Jehovah  is  followed 
with  a  most  precious  benediction  :  "  Comfort  ye,  my  people, 
comfort  ye,  my  people,  saith  the  Lord  of  hosts." 

Whatever  may  turn  an  ambassador  of  Christ  from  his  work 
for  a  time,  if  he  has  been  permitted  either  to  see  the  children 
of  God  ho7m  into  the  kingdom  here,  or  enter  its  glory  with  a 
farewell  smile  of  affection  and  hope,  through  the  "  valley  of 
the  shadow  of  death,"  will  never  cease  to  thank  his  King  for 
the  honor  and  privileges,  nor  to  long  for  them  again. 


108  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 


UP    THERE,    MOTHER! 


U^ 


'P  there,  mother! 
I  am  coming ! 
Fleet  of  foot  as  Time  doth  make, 
While  the  virgins'  lamps  are  burning, 
Lighting  loved  ones  to  the  sky, 
Up  to  where  you  are 
I  'm  coming. 

Up  there,  mother ! 

I  am  coming ! 
Swift  as  ages  flying  past, 
While  light  from  heaven  to  earth  is  flashing: 
Through  clouds  of  gold  with  silver  lining, 
Just  as  the  northern  lights  cease  burning ; 

I  am  coming. 

Up  there,  mother ! 
I  am  coming ! 
Through  the  shadow  of  the  valley. 
Leaning  on  His  sacred  promise. 
Bearing  on  myself  His  cross. 
Up  to  where  you  are 
I  'm  coming. 

For,  O  mother ! 

I  am  coming ! 
Having  faith  in  our  Redeemer, 
Even  now  "  I  know  he  liveth." 
Through  his  grace  we  '11  be  permitted 
Evermore  to  see  each  other. 
I  am  coming. 

Up  there,  mother ! 
I  am  coming ! 
Earth  has  naught  but  pain  and  sorrow. 


UP   THERE,   MOTHER  !  109 

Naught  but  anguish  for  the  morrow, 
Burning,  blistering  in  its  tenure, 
Rise,  my  soul,  and  go  up  higher ! 
I  am  going ! 

Up  there,  mother ! 

I  am  coming ! 
Throughout  space  in  heaven  of  heavens 
We  will  worship  with  the  angels, 
In  the  azure  blue  eternal, 
Singing  hallelujahs  ever. 

I  am  coming. 

Up  there,  mother ! 

I  am  coming ! 
In  the  band  of  golden  harpists, 
In  the  choir  of  cherub  songsters, 
Whose  sweet  strains  forever  linger. 
We  will  praise  our  God  forever. 

I  am  coming. 

Up  there,  mother ! 

I  am  coming ! 
I  have  seen  the  star  of  Bethlehem 
Shining  o'er  the  plains  of  Judaea, 
Saw  its  glory  in  the  manger, 
Wise  men  saw  it  and  they  worshipped. 

I  am  coming. 

Up  there,  mother ! 
I  am  coming ! 
Where  the  gates  on  golden  hinges 
In  celestial  glory  swinging, 
Ope  to  us  God's  heavenly  welcome, 
Joy  and  peace  !  to  thee 
I  'm  cominsr ! 


110  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 


PAYING  A  PHYSICIAN   IN  GERMANY. 

T  is  a  reasonable  thing,  when  one  is  ill,  to  have  a  physician ; 
and  particularly  in  a  foreign  country,  it  seems  only  wise 
to  have  the  best,  even  where  all  are  men  of  learning,  as  they 
undoubtedly  are  here.  The  most  famous  physician  of  Stutt- 
gart is,  of  course,  the  Court  physician,  and  we  asked  our  first 
German  visitor  for  information  in  regard  to  him.  "  The 
Court  Doctor,  Dr.  Yon  Ludwig,  why,  he  is  very  rich !  " 

".Is  that  all  ?  " 

"  0  no,  very  skilful  and  scientific,  and  very  eccentric.  He 
dines  at  the  Marquerdt,  the  first  hotel  in  the  place ;  has  a 
table  to  himself,  of  course ;  and  when  he  is  done  eating,  he 
puts  in  his  pocket  whatever  he  has  left  that  his  dog  would 
like,  —  beef,  veal,  or  anything  of  the  kind." 

"  The  dirty  man !  " 

"  Yes,  he  is  very  dirty.  He  looks  quite  greasy,  and  some- 
times even  ragged.  He  is  entirely  without  ceremony.  One 
day,  not  long  ago,  he  met  one  of  his  patients,  a  lady,  in  the 
street,  and  she  stopped  him  to  tell  him  about  an  annoying 
toothache,  which  she  thought  proceeded  from  the  generally 
disordered  state  of  her  health.  '  Let  me  see  your  tooth,'  said 
the  doctor.  The  lady  opened  her  mouth.  '  Now  shut  your 
eyes ! '  The  lady  shut  her  eyes,  and  the  doctor  decamped. 
It  is  not  to  be  presumed  that  a  court  lady,  or  any  lady,  would 
stand  long  in  the  street,  with  her  mouth  open,  and  her  eyes 
shut,  and  the  lady  soon  discovered  her  ridiculous  position, 
but  she  is  said  to  have  been  considerably  discomposed.  An- 
other lady,  having  sent  for  him  to  her  room,  put  her  hand  on 
her  side,  and  said, '  Doctor,  I  have  such  a  pain,  whenever  I  put 
my  hand  here.'  'Then,'  said  the  Doctor,  shortly,  'don't  put 
your  hand  there  any  more.  Adieu  ! '  And  while  the  sur- 
prised lady  sat  with  her  hand  on  her  side,  probably  unconscious 


PAYING   A   PHYSICIAN   IN    GERMANY.  Ill 

of  whatever  pain  there  might  be  at  the  moment  under  her 
fingers,  the  laconic  physician  departed." 

"  We  don't  want  Dr.  Ludwig,  with  his  greasy  pockets  and 
eccentric  ways.     Wlio  else  is  there  ?  " 

At  last  we  fix  upon  a  Dr.  Reis,  for  two  reasons :  he  is  quick, 
and  he  gives  little  medicine.  Dr.  Reis  forthwith  makes  his 
appearance.  He  has  flaxen  hair,  and  black  eyes,  a  heavy 
form,  and  a  lively  countenance,  —  a  mixture,  he  seemed  to 
be,  of  the  slow  Swabian  and  the  sprightly  Frank.  He  is  a 
good-natured,  talkative  man,  and  we  are  sorry  when  his  visits 
are  at  an  end.     Now  hear  our  closing  conversation. 

"  Doctor,  will  you  please  tell  me  what  I  owe  you  ?  " 

"  Owe  me  !  you  don't  owe  me  anything." 

"  For  your  visits,  I  mean,  and  prescriptions  ?  " 

"  0,  let  that  alone  until  next  year." 

"  Then  you  will  be  obliged  to  send  your  bill  to  America." 

"  I  make  no  bills.     Physicians  never  keep  accounts." 

We  remember  now  that  the  distinguished  oculist  in  Berlin, 
Von  Graefe,  never  makes  any  charge,  his  services  to  the  poor 
being  gratis,  and  compensated  by  the  free  gifts  of  the  rich. 
We  remember,  too,  that  Yon  Graefe  is  said  to  complain  of 
the  stinginess  of  Americans.  But  we  make  no  allusion  to 
Yon  Graefe.  We  simply  ask,  "  Is  it  not  the  custom  in  Ger- 
many to  pay  physicians  ?  " 

"  It  is  not  the  custom  to  ask  them  for  their  bill,  as  if  they 
were  shoemakers.  The  physician's  services  are  those  of  a 
friend,  and  he  is  treated  accordingly." 

Somewhat  abashed,  we  lay  down  our  purse  ;  but,  unwilling 
to  give  up  the  matter,  we  remark,  "  We  pay  doctors  in  our 
country.  We  don't  ask  them  as  soon  as  we  recover  for  their 
bills,  it  is  true ;  but  when  they  want  money,  or  at  regular 
periods,  they  send  their  bills  to  us." 

"  I  assure  you,  German  physicians  keep  no  accounts.  They 
receive  an  acknowledgment  of  their  services  if  it  is  sent 
them,  but  if  it  is  not  sent,  they  say  nothing." 

The  doctor  departs,  and  we  ponder  on  the  question,  How 


112  '       HOUSEHOLD   EEADING. 

mucli  do  "we  owe  liim  ?  "We  ask  a  young  German  gentleman 
who  calls.  "  0,  give  him  just  what  you  choose  !  "  We  ask 
our  landlady.  "  Act  exactly  according  to  your  own  pleasure  ; 
rather  too  much,  however,  than  too  little."  Don't  we  feel 
informed  ?  "  Pray  tell  us  what  is  too  much,  and  what  too 
little." 

"  The  law  requires  that  for  every  visit  of  a  physician  he 
shall  receive  not  less  than  seventeen  cents.  This  is  the  lowest 
amount  that  is  ever  paid,  and  this  is  very  seldom  enforced. 
I  know  families  in  comfortable  circumstances,  who  never  pay 
anything  for  medical  services,  which  they  frequently  receive. 
The  physician  prefers  being  defrauded  of  his  dues  to  the  ob- 
loquy a  law  process  brings  upon  him.  It  is  an  inconvenient 
custom,  both  for  patient  and  doctor.  The  patient,  no  matter 
how  ill,  must  keep  an  account  of  the  number  of  visits,  yet, 
with  the  utmost  desire  to  be  just,  feels  embarrassed  when  the 
acknowledgment  is  made.  Now,"  continued  our  landlady, 
"  I  have  been  ill,  as  you  know,  eight  months,  confined  to  my 
bed  six  months  of  the  time,  and  my  physician  has  shown 
every  possible  kindness  and  attention.  I  certainly  am  greatly 
indebted  to  him,  but  I  do  not  know  what  to  pay  him." 

We  made  no  remark,  but  we  could  not  avoid  thinking,  il 
you,  German  people,  could  just  get  the  word  comfort  into 
your  language,  and  the  idea  into  your  heads,  you  would 
know  what  to  pay  your  doctors,  and  would  rid  yourselves  of 
a  thousand  disagreeable  things. 


VIRGINIA    DARE. 

ON  the  island  of  Roanoke,  where  our  soldiers  fought  a 
great  battle  and  won  a  great  victory  a  few  months  ago, 
the  first  American  child  of  English  parents  was  born,  almost 
three  hundred  years  since. 

Her  birth-month  was  August,  when  the  days  were  long  and 


VIRGINIA  DAEE.  113 

sunny,  when  wild  berries  and  fruits  were  ripening,  and  the 
forest  was  bright  witli  singing-birds  of  strange,  gay  plumage. 
The  air  was  heavy  with  the  fragrance  of  odorous  wood  ;  and 
beautiful  flowers  which  were  rare  in  England,  and  carefully 
cultivated  in  gardens  there,  grew  wild  in  plentiful  luxuriance 
here. 

It  was  a  goodly  land,  fertile  and  delightful ;  rich,  beside, 
so  the  story  went,  in  rivers  which  ran  over  sands  of  gold  far 
toward  the  sunset.  But  lovely  and  promising  as  the  heritage 
seemed  to  which  the  English  baby  was  born,  yet  there  must 
have  been  a  look  of  sadness  in  the  fond  and  hopeful  eyes  of 
her  mother,  and  an  anxious  shadow  on  her  fatlier's  face, 
thinking  of  the  dangers  lurking  about  the  cradle  of  the  child. 

Eighty-nine  men,  seventeen  women,  and  two  children,  now 
the  little  one  had  come,  made  up  the  number  of  the  Colony 
in  the  New  World ;  and  at  this  time,  when  we  go  to  England 
and  back  in  a  month,  and  hear  from  there  almost  every  day, 
we  can  hardly  imagine  how  far  away  and  desolate  this  hand- 
ful in  the  wilderness  must  have  felt  as  they  saw  the  ship  that 
brought  them  prepare  to  return. 

There  were  trees  enough  for  building  houses  ;  there  were 
fish  in  the  rivers,  game  in  the  forest,  fruit  and  seeds  abun- 
dant, and  sufficient  each  in  their  season  for  those  who  knew 
where  to  look  and  how  to  use  them  ;  but  everything  was 
new  and  strange  to  the  English  people  ;  they  missed  their 
accustomed  kinds  of  food,  and  tools  for  working,  and  thev 
must  wait  for  these  until  the  sliip  should  go  to  England  and 
come  back  again. 

The  territory  which  is  now  North  Carolina  was  called 
Virginia  tlien  ;  so  the  first  baby  born  there  was  also  named 
Virgiiiia.  She  was  the  child  of  Mrs.  Eleanor  Dare,  the 
daughter  of  the  Governor  of  the  Colony,  John  White,  and 
her  father  was  one  of  nine  men  who  had  come  to  assist  the 
Governor  in  surveying  the  land  of  the  New  World,  and  make 
discoveries  here. 

I  can  fancy  how  the  baby,  with  its  helplessness  and  win- 


114  HOUSEHOLD  EEADING. 

some  ways,  —  old  as  the  time  of  Cain,  yet  new  as  the  latest 
born,  —  must  have  brightened  and  beautified  the  lonely 
settlement,  though  her  life  was  overshadowed  in  its  begin- 
ning by  parting  and  desertion. 

Not  desertion  though,  the  people  hoped,  and  the  sailors 
said.  They  positively  promised  to  return  within  the  year, 
bringing  supplies  of  food,  clothing,  seeds,  and  tools,  with  per- 
haps other  emigrants,  and  certainly  with  tidings  from  home  ; 
and  that  they  might  be  sure  to  come,  the  Colony  prevailed  on 
Governor  White  to  go  with  them.  He  at  first  refused  to 
leave  the  people  of  his  care  alone  to  their  untried  perils  and 
sufferings  ;  but  they  insisted,  thinking  that  with  his  daughter 
and  granddaughter  left  behind  as  hostages,  he  surely  would 
return  speedily  to  their  relief,  if  motives  of  common  humanity 
and  interest  in  the  New  World  should  not  be  sufficient  to  keep 
them  in  remembrance  at  England. 

So,  before  little  Yirginia  Dare  was  old  enough  to  do  more 
than  cry  when  she  was  uncomfortable  and  laugh  when  she 
was  pleased,  her  grandfather  sailed  with  the  ship  to  England, 
leaving  behind  on  the  shore  the  hundred  and  eight  souls  that 
hoped  they  were  the  germ  of  a  great  nation,  but  that  were 
not  so  to  be. 

How  they  watched  the  receding  sail  growing  less  and  less, 
seeming  to  vanish,  and  then  showing  again  and  again  in  the 
sunlight,  till  it  finally  disappeared  forever  ;  how  some  were 
hopeful  and  courageous,  and  others  timid  and  desponding ; 
how  want,  with  disease  and  death  in  its  train,  came  to  them  ; 
how  one  by  one  English  graves  were  made  on  American  soil ; 
how  the  lessening  number  strained  their  eyes,  watching  for 
the  ship  that  did  not  come,  thinking  they  saw  it  far  out  at 
sea,  only  to  feel  the  heart-sickness  of  disappointed  hope  ;  how 
at  last  the  bravest  and  most  hopeful  believed  they  were  for- 
gotten in  England,  or  that  the  ocean  had  added  to  her  sunken 
treasures  the  ship  and  the  friends  that  were  their  only  earthly 
hope  :  how,  through  all,  the  little  Virginia,  unconscious  of 
her  sore  peril,  grew  more  winning  and  lovely  as  the  months 


VIEaiNIA  DARE.  115 

went  on,  drawing  all  hearts  to  her,  and  making  a  gleam  of 
sunshine  in  the-  deserted  colony  ;  all  this  we  may  imagine, 
for  it  surely  came  to  pass  ;  but  more  than  this,  what  was  the 
end  of  tlieir  looking  and  waiting  we  may  never  know  ;  that  is 
one  of  the  dread  secrets  which  the  relentless  past  holds  in  its 
keeping. 

Meanwhile  the  sea  had  not  swallowed  up  the  English  ship, 
neither  were  the  English  friends  so  false  and  forgetful  as  they 
seemed. 

When  Governor  Wliite  arrived  in  England,  he  found  the 
country,  which  was  then  at  war  with  Spain,  in  such  excite- 
ment about  a  threatened  invasion  by  the  Spaniards  that  they 
could  not  think  or  talk  much  of  the  hundred  and  eiglit  people 
on  the  island  of  Roanoke.  When  they  were  in  danger  of 
losing  their  existence  as  a  nation,  they  were  in  no  mood  for 
speculations  in  colonizing  a  new  continent. 

There  was  but  one  man  in  the  kingdom  who  effectually  re- 
membered the  poor  exiles.  Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  -who  had 
done  more  than  anyl)ody  else  in  fitting  out  the  expedition, 
and  for  whom  the  little  settlement  was  named,  which  they 
hoped  would  be  some  time,  but  which  never  was,  the  city  of 
Raleigh. 

From  his  own  money  Sir  Walter  fitted  and  sent  out  two  ves- 
sels of  supplies  to  return  to  Roanoke  with  Governor  White. 

But  alas  for  the  colonists  !  When  the  ships  had  not  been 
long  at  sea,  the  love  of  money,  which  as  they  might  have 
known  before,  is  the  root  of  all  evil,  led  them  to  run  in  chase 
of  Spanish  prizes  on  the  way.  Thoy  gained  nothing,  and  one 
vessel  lost  all  her  cargo,  so  both  returned  to  England. 

Then  troublous  months  came  when  self-preservation  and 
protection  were  all  the  nation  was  sufficient  for,  and  so  the 
time  went  on  until  after  the  winds  of  heaven  had  scattered 
and  destroyed  the  great  fleet  of  ships  —  the  Invincible  Ar- 
mada —  that  sailed  to  invade  England. 

After  that,  three  years  after  Governor  Wliite  had  left 
Roanoke,  in  the  year  1590,  a  company  was  sent  to  look  after 
the  forsaken  ones. 


116  HOUSEHOLD   READING. 

They  came  too  late.  There  was  no  trace  of  English  town 
or  Englishmen,  excepting  an  inscription  on  a  tree  pointing 
off  into  the  forest,  but  telling  nothing  of  the  fate  of  the  in- 
habitants of  the  city  of  Raleigh. 

It  was  late  in  the  year,  there  were  many  chances  against 
their  finding  the  colony ;  the  winds  were  getting  adverse,  the 
perils  of  braving  a  winter  on  that  desolate  coast  could  not  be 
thought  of,  so  the  men  timidly  turned  back  to  England. 

But  in  the  prosperous  years  of  peace  that  followed,  the  lost 
colony  was  remembered  and  sought  after  again  and  again,  as 
in  our  own  day  Sir  John  Franklin  and  his  hapless  crew  have 
been  sought  for,  but  with  less  success.  Sir  Walter 'Raleigh 
sent  himself  several  expeditions,  —  all  fruitless. 

So  many  years  afterward  that  if  Virginia  Dare  had  lived  to 
become  a  very  old  woman,  she  had  then  long  been  dead,  after 
America  became  settled  again  with  people  who  hoped  to  be 
and  who  were  the  germ  of  a  great  nation,  there  was  a  faint 
traditionary  rumor  of  a  company  of  English,  who,  wandering 
off  in  destitution  and  helplessness,  took  refuge  among  the  In- 
dians, and,  after  a  time,  mixing  with  them,  lost  their  own  dis- 
tinct existence,  and  became  part  of  them. 

It  was  only  an  uncertain  rumor,  but  many  believed  that 
there  were  traits  among  the  Hatteras  Indians  which  showed 
a  mixture  of  English  blood,  and  that  among  them  the  lost 
colony  found  a  home. 

In  the  changing  years  the  Hatteras  Indians  have  all  passed 
away  like  the  flower  of  the  field.  They  have  no  longer  a 
name  on  the  face  of  the  earth,  and  with  them  has  vanished 
the  last  trace  of  Virginia  Dare,  the  first  English- American. 


SERVETUS   AND   CALVIN.  117 


SERYETUS    AND    CALVIN. 

NOTHING  can  be  more  unjust  than  to  charge  the  faults 
and  errors  of  an  entire  age  upon  any  one  individual  of 
that  age ;  nothing  more  unfair  than  to  judge  either  the  age 
or  the  individual  according  to  the  principles  and  standard 
of  a  long-subsequent  and  more-enlightened  period.  Yet  both 
these  wrongs  are  frequently  committed  by  those  who  assume 
the  appellation  of  Liberal  Christians.  It  has  become  a  settled 
habit  with  them  to  reproach  John  Calvin  with  the  death  of 
Servetus,  as  if  that  were  one  of  the  greatest  atrocities  on 
record,  an  event  almost  without  a  parallel  in  history,  and  as 
if  he  were  sole  or  chief  actor  in  the  tragedy,  and  solely  re- 
sponsible for  its  performance.  No  small  part,  moreover,  of 
the  odium  attaching  to  this  transaction  is  carefully  brought 
down  and  transferred  to  the  entire  body  of  Christians  who  at 
this  day  pass  under  the  general  name  of  Calvinists.  His  sin 
is  literally  and  in  the  most  orthodox  manner  imjjuted  to  them  ; 
and  much  as  our  Unitarian  neighbors  profess  to  abhor  such  a 
dogma,  in  other  connections  they  hesitate  not  to  constitute 
in  their  own  way  John  Calvin  a  sort  of  federal  head  of  the 
whole  race  of  orthodox  Christians  to  the  latest  time,  and 
roundly  charge  the  guilt  of  his  sin  upon  them  in  a  body. 

Now  the  injustice  of  all  this  is  too  manifest  and  glaring  to 
demand  comment.  It  is  not  true  that  the  death  of  Servetus, 
liowcvcr  sad  in  itself,  and  to  be  condemned  according  to  all 
those  more  just  and  enlightened  views  of  religious  toleration 
which  now  prevail,  is  an  event  of  marked  and  peculiar  atroci- 
ty ;  on  the  contrary,  it  is  only  one  of  a  series  of  events  which 
characterize  the  history  of  that  age  all  the  world  over,  not 
peculiar  to  one  country  or  one  sect,  the  result  of  principles 
then  everywhere  firmly  held  and  conscientiously  carried  out ; 
and  it  must  be  judged  accordingly.  It  is  not  true  that  the 
principal  blame  of  this  transaction  rests  upon  John  Calvin, 


118  HOUSEHOLD   READING. 

as  is  generally  affirmed  and  pertinaciously  insisted  upon  by 
those  who  bear  no  good  will  to  the  memory  of  the  great 
Genevan  reformer ;  nor  can  it  be  shown  that  the  odium  of 
this  transaction  falls  in  any  manner  whatever  upon  those  who 
at  the  present  time  profess,  in  its  essential  features,  the  faith 
and  religious  system  of  that  eminent  man.  So  common  is  it 
even  now  to  represent  Servetus  as  a  holy  martyr,  and  his 
death  as  a  monstrous  atrocity,  planned,  devised,  and  executed 
by  John  Calvin,  to  the  everlasting  disgrace  of  orthodoxy  in 
general,  while  the  world  shall  stand,  that  we  doubt  not  these 
representations  are  by  multitudes  really  believed,  while  others 
who  do  not  fully  accredit  them  are  perhaps  unable  to  satisfy 
themselves  of  their  essential  falsity. 

We  propose  briefly  to  lay  before  our  readers  the  simple 
facts  in  the  case,  as  derived  from  the  most  authentic  and 
accredited  sources  of  history,  in  order  that  they  may  judge 
for  themselves  whether  these  oft-repeated  charges  be  true  or 
false  ?  ^Vho  and  ivliat  tvas  Servetus  ?  For  ivliat  ivas  he  con- 
demned? What  agency  had  John  Calvin  in  his  death  ?  These 
are  the  questions  which  demand  our  attention,  and  which  we 
propose  to  answer. 

Who  and  what  tvas  Servetus  ?  By  birth  a  Spaniard,  a  native 
of  Yilleneuva  in  Aragon,  his  earliest  years  seem  to  have 
been  spent  in  a  cloister.  At  fourteen  he  was  taken  into  the 
service  of  confessor  to  Charles  V.,  in  which  situation  he  saw 
much  of  the  Pope  and  of  Popery,  and  soon  became  disgusted 
with  the  pageantry  and  pomp  of  that  hollow  and  heartless 
system.  Afterwards  he  studied  law  at  the  University  of  Tou- 
louse in  France,  and  in  connection  with  law  paid  attention 
also  to  astrology.  He  had  at  this  time,  after  a  diligent  study 
of  the  early  Fathers,  and  of  the  Catholic  writers  of  the  Mid- 
dle Ages,  deliberately  renounced  Popery,  and,  as  it  seems,  had 
gone  over  to  the  opposite  extreme  of  a  bold  and  dangerous 
scepticism.  He  professes  himself  neither  a  Catholic  nor  a 
Protestant,  but  seems  to  have  regarded  himself  as  a  j)rophet 
raised  up  to  reform  the  world. 


SERVETUS   AND    CALVIN.  119 

Toulouse  becoming  unsafe  for  him  on  account  of  his  free- 
dom of  thought  and  expression,  he  resorts  to  Basil,  and  sub- 
mits his  views  to  the  Swiss  divines  and  reformers,  who  regard 
him,  however,  with  entire  distrust.  Soon  after  this  he  pub- 
lishes his  first  work  upon  the  Trinity,  —  a  worlv  so  repugnant 
to  the  views  then  everywhere  entertained  in  Christendom,  so 
full  of  dangerous  error,  and  more  than  all  so  arrogaiit  and 
bitter  in  its  tone,  that  it  raised  a  general  storm  of  indignation 
both  among  Catholics  and  Protestants.  He  was  not  allowed 
to  leave  Basil  until  he  had  in  a  manner  retracted  his  errors. 

Abandoning  for  the  time  his  attempts  to  renovate  the  world, 
he  leaves  Germany  and  retires  to  France,  where  under  a 
changed  name  he  studies  mathematics  and  medicine  at  Paris. 
Here  he  subsequently  takes  the  degree  of  doctor  of  medicine, 
and  lectures  upon  mathematics  and  astronomy.  His  arro- 
gance, however,  soon  involves  him  in  trouble  with  the  univer- 
sity and  faculty  of  Paris,  and  he  is  prohibited  from  lecturing. 
We  find  him  next  at  Cliarlieu,  near  Lyons,  establishing  him- 
self as  a  physician,  but  his  intolerant  spirit  and  fanatical 
tendencies  soon  drive  him  again  from  his  moorings. 

He  next  appears  at  Vienne  in  Dauphiny,  where  for  some 
years  he  finds  an  asylum  under  the  protection  of  the  Arch- 
bishop of  Yienne,  a  distinguished  patron  of  learning.  Here 
he  publishes  several  works,  amongst  others  "  The  Restitution 
of  Christianity,"  a  work  of  so  heretical  a  character  that  it 
was  with  considerable  difficulty  he  could  obtain  its  publica- 
tion, and  which  finally  appeared  without  the  name  of  author 
or  publisher  or  place,  the  whole  affair  being  conducted  with 
the  utmost  secrecy.  Copies  of  the  work  having  been  circu- 
lated in  several  of  the  principal  cities  of  France  and  Ger- 
many, its  authorship  soon  became  known  abroad ;  this  led  to 
the  arrest  and  trial  of  Servetus  in  Yienne.  Finding  it  likely 
to  go  hard  with  him,  he  makes  his  escape  from  prison,  while 
the  trial  is  yet  pending,  and  after  wandering  about  awhile  in 
France,  makes  his  way  to  Switzerland.  The  trial  proceeds 
at  Yienne,  however,  after  his  departure;  and  being  condemned 


120  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

to  death,  he  is  burnt  in  effigy  together  with  his  books,  Ser- 
vetus,  after  this  narrow  escape,  imprudently  enters  Geneva,  on 
his  way  to  Naples,  and  tarries  there  a  month  ;  when  just  as  he 
is  about  to  depart,  he  is  arrested  in  the  name  of  the  council, 
and  after  a  thorough  and  prot^'acted  trial  is  found  guilty 
according  to  the  laws  of  the  land,  and  condemned  to  death, — 
a  sentence  wliich  was  executed  on  the  27th  of  October,  1553. 
It  remains  to  inquire  for  what  he  was  condemned,  and 
what  agency  Calvin  had  in  procuring  his  death.  For  ivhat, 
then,  ivas  Servetus  coiidemned  ?  What  were  his  offences  ? 
What  charges,  true  or  false,  were  brought  out  against  him  ? 
A  very  able  writer,  in  the  last  number  of  the  Christian  Ex- 
aminer, represents  the  death  of  Servetus  as  closely  connected 
with  and  brought  about  by  his  having  published  an  edition 
of  the  Bible  containing  notes  and  otlier  matter  of  a  heretical 
character. 

Mr.  Livermore  has  fallen  into  a  mistake  in  supposing  that 
this  publication  was. one  of  the  principal  causes  of  the  con- 
demnation of  Servetus,  or  had  anything  in  particular  to  do 
with  it.  Such  was  not  the  fact.  The  Bible  in  question  was 
published  some  ten  years  before  the  trial  and  death  of  Ser- 
vetus, and  though  not  approved  by  the  Catholics,  and  at 
Lyons  placed  on  the  catalogue  of  prohibited  books,  yet  it 
does  not  appear  ever  to  have  occasioned  him  any  special 
trouble.  ICs  heresy,  if  there  was  any,  consisted  principally 
in  the  interpretation  which  it  gave  of  the  Messianic  prophe- 
cies, which  Servetus  regarded  as  having  had  tlieir  complete 
fulfilment  before  the  time  of  Christ,  and  as  referring  to  him 
only  as  David  and  Solomon  and  so  forth  were  types  of  him  ; 
a  doctrine  not  indeed  current  at  the  time,  but  by  no  means 
likely  in  any  age  of  the  world  to  bring  a  virtuous  and  upright 
and  peaceable  man  to  the  stake.  The  error,  if  such  it  be, 
*was  certainly  of  a  very  mild  character.  It  came  up  indeed 
among  other  opinions  and  doctrines  of  Servetus,  on  his  trial 
before  the  Council  of  the  Two  Hundred  at  Geneva,  but  it 
does  not  appear  that  any  special  importance  was  attached  to 


SERVETUS  AND  CALVIN.  121 

it.  The  errors  for  which  he  was  condemned,  were  of  a  far 
more  serious  nature.  This  matter  of  the  Bible  did  not  come 
up  at  all  on  his  final  trial,  nor  is  there  any  evidence  that  it 
had  anything  whatever  to  do  with  his  death. 

For  what,  then,  was  he  condemned  ?  Not  for  heretical 
opinions  of  any  sort,  merely  or  chiefly,  we  reply.  His  opin- 
ions and  doctrines  were  doubtless  heretical  enough,  according 
to  the  standards  of  judgment  at  the  time ;  heretical  they 
would  in  any  age  be  pronounced  by  the  great  body  of  the 
Christian  .Church.  But  it  was  not  so  much  his  opinions  in 
themselves,  as  the  manner  in  which  he  stated  and  defended 
them  which  gave  offence.  The  elder  Socinus  was  teaching 
substantially  the  same  doctrines  at  Zurich  without  molesta- 
tion. Not  content  with  simply  maintaining  and  defending 
calmly  but  earnestly  what  he  thought  to  be  truth,  Servetus  it 
seems  had  from  the  first  set  himself  to  assail  with  terms  of 
bitterest  obloquy  and  reproach,  nay,  with  ribaldry,  and  un- 
measured abuse,  the  opinions  of  those  who  differed  from  him. 
He  made  use  of  language  which  could  not  fail  to  shock  the 
minds  of  all  sober  and  pious  men  who  held  the  doctrines  of 
either  the  Catholic  or  the  Protestant  Church.  He  calls  the 
persons  of  the  Godhead  delusions  of  the  Devil,  and  the  triune 
God  a  monster,  a  three-headed  Cerberus. 

It  was  this  bitterness  and  intolerance  of  spirit,  this  entire 
want  of  reverence  for  the  most  sacred  things,  this  deliberate 
insult  and  outrage  of  the  religious  feelings  of  the  entire 
Christian  world,  that  armed  the  entire  Christian  world  against 
him,  and  made  him  a  marked  and  outlawed  man  long  before 
he  ever  saw  Calvin  or  Geneva.  Some  thirteen  years  before 
his  trial,  he  sent  back  to  Calvin,  with  whom  he  was  then  cor- 
responding, a  copy  of  his  Institutes,  with  the  most  severe  and 
bitter  reflections  and  taunts  upon  the  margin,  and  sent  him 
several  letters  of  a. most  abusive  and  insulting  character. 

The  same  spirit  seems  to  have  been  manifested  on  his  trial. 
He  manifested  neither  respect  for  his  judges,  nor  a  decent 
regard  for  the  religious  sentiments  of  the  age.     In  the  most 


122  HOUSEHOLD   READING. 

insulting  manner  he  heaped  upon  Calvin  the  most  undeserved 
reproaches  and  the  most  abusive  epithets,  dealing  so  much  in 
personalities  and  invectives  as  to  shame  even  his  judges,  and 
wear  out  the  patience  of  men,  many  of  whom  were  inclined 
to  look  favorably  upon  his  cause.  So  far  was  this  abuse  car- 
ried, that,  unable  to  bear  it  longer,  the  entire  body  of  the  cler- 
gy, with  Calvin  at  their  head,  arose  on  one  occasion  and  left 
the  tribunal,  thus  closing  the  examination. 

On  his  final  trial,  thirty-eight  propositions,  taken  from  his 
last  work,  were  handed  him.  His  answer,  says  a  dispassion- 
ate historian,  was  more  like  the  ravings  of  a  maniac  than  the 
words  of  reason  and  truth.  He  exhibited  a  surprising  indif- 
ference in  regard  to  the  erroneous  doctrines  which  were  im- 
puted to  him,  and  sought  mainly  for  hard  eiiithets  to  apply 
to  Calvin.  He  accused  him  ....  of  being  a  murderer  and 
a  disciple  of  Simon  Magus.  The  margin  of  the  paper  con- 
taining the  propositions  was  covered  with  such  expressions  as 
the  foUowhig:  "Thou  dreamest,"  "Thou  liest,"  "Thou 
canst  not  deny  that  tliou  art  Simon  the  sorcerer,"  &c. 

Another  historian  says  of  this  reply  of  Servetus  :  "  It  is  no 
presumption  to  say,  that,  in  point  of  abuse  and  scurrility,  this 
defence  stands  unrivalled  by  any  one  that  was  ever  made  by 
any  defendant,  however  infatuated,  in  the  most  desperate 
cause."* 

It  was  not,  then,  so  much  his  opinions  and  dogmas,  as  the 
manner  in  which  he  maintained  them,  that  occasioned  the 
final  decision  of  the  judges,  and  the  almost  unanimous  verdict 
of  the  Christian  world  against  Servetus.  "  If  Servetus  had 
only  attacked  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity  by  arguments,"  says 
an  able  writer,  "  he  would  have  been  answered  by  arguments  ; 
and  withoiit  danger  of  persecution  by  the  Protestants,  he 
might  have  gone  on  defending  it,  until  called  to  answer  for  his 
'  belief  by  him  whose  character  lie  had  impugned.  Argument 
was  not  that  which  Calvin  and  his  contemporaries  opposed  by 
the  civil  tribunal.     It  was  insult  and  ribaldry,  and  that  too 

*  Waterman's  Life  of  Calvin,  p.  118. 


SEEVETUS  AND  CALVDT.  123 

against  tlie  Most  High,  wliose  character  they  would  defend  in 
the  midst  of  a  perverse  and  rebellious  generation."  * 

"  If  ever  a  poor  fanatic  thrust  himself  into  the  fire,"  says 
J.  T.  Coleridge,  "  it  was  Michael  Servetus." 

"We  come  now  to  the  final  question,  What  agency  had  Cal- 
vin in  procuring  the  death  of  this  man?  The  facts  are  few  and 
simply  told,  and  our  reply  may  therefore  be  brief.  Servetus, 
it  will  be  recollected,  ran  away,  while  his  trial  was  pending 
at  Vienne,  and  imprudently  came  to  Geneva.  How  came  he 
to  go  thither  ?  At  the  secret  instigation  of  Calvin,  say  some  ; 
this,  however,  is  altogether  false.  So  far  from  encouraging 
him  to  come  thither,  Calvin  had  years  before  positively  refused 
to  grant  him  his  protection  in  case  he  did  come ;  and  Servetus 
knew  perfectly  well,  from  the  manner  in  which  he  had  treated 
Calvin,  that  he  could  not  rely  upon  any  friendship  or  protec- 
tion in  that  quarter.  It  was  his  own  voluntary  movement. 
He  went  by  way  of  Switzerland  because  it  was,  as  matters 
then  were,  —  Europe  being  everywhere  too  hot  for  him,  —  his 
safest  route  to  Naples.  With  characteristic  recklessness  he 
enters  Geneva,  the  very  citadel  of  the  faith  he  had  so  deliber- 
ately and  bitterly  reviled.  He  lingers  there  an  entire  mouth, 
as  if  to  leave  his  enemies  no  excuse  for  permitting  iiim  to  es- 
cape.    At  length,  at  the  instigation  of  Calvin,  he  is  arrested. 

The  laws  of  the  state  made  it  the  imperative  duty  of  tlio 
magistrates  to  proceed  against  those  who  were  guilty  of  her- 
esy, and  tlie  duty  of  every  good  citizen  to  aid  them  in  so 
doing.  This  law  had  been  in  operation  at  Geneva  from  the 
time  of  Frederic  II.  It  was  the  spirit  and  sentiment  of  the 
age,  that  those  who  obstinately  persisted  in  heresy  and  blas- 
phemy were  worthy  of  death.  Even  Servetus  himself  main- 
tained this  principle  in  his  "Restitution  of  Christianity,"  —  the 
very  work  which  led  to  his  trial  and  condemnation.  Acting  in 
accordance  with  this  generally  received  opinion,  and  with  tlie 
laws  of  his  country,  as  a  good  citizen  bound  to  maintain  the 
civil  institutions  under  which  he  lived,  Calvin  lodged  an  accu- 

*  Bibliothcca  Sacra,  February,  1S4G. 


124     •  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

sation  against  Servetus,  whose  heretical  opinions  and  whose 
bitter  and  blasphemous  assaults,  as  they  were  universally 
regarded,  upon  the  true  faith,  were  widely  known  long  before 
he  came  to  Geneva. 

The  position  of  Calvin  was  such  that,  under  the  circum- 
stances, he  could  hardly  do  otherwise.  He  stood  at  the  head 
of  the  Protestant  clergy,  not  of  Geneva  alone,  but  of  Europe 
and  of  the  age.  The  reproach  of  heresy  was  resting,  in  the 
estimation  of  the  Catholic  world,  upon  the  entire  Protestant 
body,  and  especially  upon  Calvin  and  the  clergy  of  Geneva. 
They  were  regarded  as  anti-Trinitarians,  and  Geneva  as  a 
receptacle  of  heretics.  Servetus  was  known  and  acknowl- 
edged to  be  a  teacher  of  the  most  dangerous  errors,  and  in 
the  common  estimate  of  both  Catholic  and  Protestant  was 
a  man  worthy  of  death.  If  the  clergy  of  Geneva,  the  leaders 
of  the  Reformation,  failed  to  proceed  according  to  the  laws 
against  such  a  man,  thus  throwing  himself  into  their  midst, 
what  could  they  expect  but  that  the  opprobrium  of  heresy 
would  justly  fasten  itself  upon  them  in  the  general  opinion 
of  men  ?  It  was,  in  fact,  a  matter  of  self-defence  with  them 
to  show  the  world,  both  Catholic  and  Protestant,  that  they 
had  no  sympathy  with  men  who  undertook  the  work  of  reform 
in  the  spirit  and  with  the  principles  of  Servetus.  It  was  due 
to  themselves,  due  to  the  cause  of  Protestantism,  due  to  the 
state  under  whose  laws  they  dwelt. 

By  the  laws  of  the  state,  it  was  required  that  the  person 
who  lodged  an  accusation  against  any  one  should  sustain  it 
and  make  it  good,  or,  failing  to  do  this,  should  suffer  the 
punishment  which  would  have  been  due  to  the  accused.  It 
devolved  on  Calvin,  therefore,  to  sustain  the  charges  of  heresy 
brought  by  him  against  Servetus.  This  he  did  with  such 
clearness  and  force  that  the  Council  of  the  Two  Hundred,  in 
which  the  influence,  not  of  Calvin,  but  of  his  opponents  and 
determined  enemies,  the  Libertines,  predominated,  declared 
the  accusation  substantiated,  and  the  prisoner  was  remanded 
for  further  trial,  according  to  law,  before  the  Council  of  Sixty. 


SEBVETUS   AND   CALVIN.  125 

Throughout  these  trials,  Calvin  took  no  further  part  than 
his  position  as  accuser  demanded,  nor  was  he  present  except 
when  required  by  the  judges.  He  calmly  stated  the  errors  of 
the  accused,  showed  by  his  own  writings  that  he  maintained 
such  errors,  and  the  pernicious  tendency  of  them.  His  whole 
demeanor  and  spirit  were  in  marked  contrast  with  the  violence 
and  bitterness  of  Serve tus. 

...  There  was  no  haste  in  these  proceedings.  The  first  trial 
commenced  on  the  14th  of  August,  and  continued  four  days ; 
the  second  began  on  the  21st  of  the  same  month  ;  and  after 
a  protracted  and  patient  hearing,  the  council  came  to  this 
determination,  that,  after  full  time  had  been  given  to  the 
accused  to  retract  or  correct  whatever  he  might  wish,  the 
whole  case  should  be  laid  before  the  Swiss  churches  for  their 
decision.  It  was  not  until  the  21st  of  September  that  this 
was  done,  and  the  documents  of  the  trial  were  laid  before  the 
churches  in  Zurich,  Berne,  Basil,  and  Schaffliausen.  Mean- 
while Servetus  had  ample  time  to  collect  himself,  and  even 
complained  of  the  delay  as  unnecessary. 

The  answers  of  the  several  churches  were  substantially 
the  same,  —  that  it  was  necessary  that  so  dangerous  a  man 
should  be  in  some  way  prevented  from  doing  further  mischief. 
After  this,  the  two  councils  assemble  in  joint  session,  and 
continue  in  deliberation  three  days.  They  decide  at  last 
upon  the  infliction  of  capital  punishment.  At  these  delibera- 
tions, of  course,  neither  Calvin  nor  the  clergy  were  present ; 
it  was  a  civil  tribunal ;  but,  so  soon  as  its  decision  was 
known,  Calvin  at  once  assembled  the  clergy  of  the  city,  and 
they  unanimously  petitioned  the  council  for  a  milder  form  of 
punishment.     The  petition  was  altogether  refused. 

On  the  20th  of  October  the  sentence  was  to  be  executed. 
The  council  were  in  session  all  the  morning,  waiting  for  the 
prisoner's  retraction  ;  but  no  retraction  came,  and  the  law 
had  its  course.  No  one  was  more  disappointed  at  the  issue 
of  this  trial,  as  appears  from  his  letters,  than  John  Calvin. 
He  had  confidently  hoped  that  Servetus  would  be  made  to  see 
his  errors  and  to  retract  them. 


126  HOUSEHOLD   EE.^DING. 

As  to  the  justice  of  this  punishment,  whatever  we  may 
think  of  it,  judging  by  the  principles  and  tlie  liglit  of  the  pres- 
ent age,  there  seems  to  have  been  but  one  opinion  among 
the  most  eminent  of  that  age  for  learning,  wisdom,  and  piety. 
Such  men  as  Bullinger,  Farel,  Yiret,  and  Beza  heartily  ap- 
proved the  proceeding.  Even  the  gentle  Melancthon  affirms, 
in  a  letter  to  Calvin,  that  the  magistrates  "  acted  rightly  in 
putting  this  blasphemer  to  death  "  ;  and  in  a  letter  to  Bullin- 
ger the  same  mild  and  cautious  and  truly  Christian  man  de- 
clares, "  Ihave  been  surprised  that  there  are  men  who  blame 
this  severity." 

What,  then,  on  the  whole,  was  Calvin's  agency  in  this 
affair  ?  Simply  this.  He  brought  an  accusation  against 
Servetus,  when  to  have  done  otherwise  would  have  been  a 
virtual  betrayal  of  the  cause  of  Protestant  reformation,  as 
well  as  a  disregard  of  the  laws  of  his  country.  As  by  law 
required,  he  substantiated  the  charge  he  had  made.  This  he 
did ;  this,  and  nothing  more.  With  the  condemnation  and 
sentence  of  Servetus  he  had  nothing  whatever  to  do.  The 
trial  was  before  a  civil  tribunal,  the  highest  and  most  august 
in  the  state.  Every  opportunity  of  defence  was  afforded  the  ac- 
cused. Calvin  himself  furnished  him  the  books  he  needed  from 
his  own  library.  The  trial  was  conducted  with  extreme  pa- 
tience and  deliberation.  The  case  was  finally  submitted  to  the 
churches  of  Switzerland  for  their  decision.  With  one  voice 
they  declare  the  accused  guilty.  His  punisl  ment  is  decided 
by  the  united  councils  after  a  deliberation  of  *;hree  days  ;  and 
so  far  from  triumphing  in  its  severity,  *  J.  n,  at  the  head 
of  the  clergy,  petitions,  but  in  vain,  for  its  mitigation. 

Let  the  reader  judge  now,  with  the  facts  of  the  case  fairly 
before  him,  with  what  justice  it  is  that  Calvin  is  so  frequently 
and  bitterly  reproached  with  the  burning  of  Servetus,  as  if  he 
were  its  sole  author  and  procurer,  as  if  he  were  at  once  ac- 
cuser, judge,  and  executioner  in  the  sad  affair,  and  as  if  he 
had  acted  in  the  whole  proceeding  against,  rather  than  in  ac- 
cordance with,  the  universal  sentiment  of  the  age  and  the 
opinions  of  all  good  men. 


SIX   LITTLE   FEET   ON   THE   FENDER.  127 

We  do  not  defend,  in  all  this,  the  condemnation  of  Ser- 
vetus.  It  was  a  great  mistake  ;  call  it,  if  you  will,  a  crime. 
But  let  the  blame  rest  ivhere  it  belongs  ;  not  on  John  Calvin, 
V)ut  on  the  men  who  decreed  that  death,  and  on  the  age 
which  sanctioned  and  demanded  it. 


SIX  LITTLE  FEET   ON  THE  FENDER. 

IN  my  heart  there  liveth  a  picture 
Of  a  kitchen  rude  and  old, 
Where  the  firelight  tripped  o'er  the  rafters, 

And  reddened  the  roof's  brown  mould, 
Gilding  the  steam  from  the  kettle, 

That  hummed  on  the  foot-worn  hearth, 
Throughout  the  livelong  evening 
Its  measures  of  drowsy  mirth. 

Because  of  the  three  light  shadows 
That  frescoed  that  rude  old  room, 

Because  of  the  voices  echoed 
Up  'mid  the  rafters'  gloom  ; 

Because  of  the  feet  on  the  fender,  — 


Si?"  restless,  white  little  feet,  — 
he  t  loughts  of  that  dear  old  kit 
Ar    "^"^  me  so  fresh  and  sweet. 


0,  where  are  the  fair  young  faces 

That  crowded  against  the  pane 
When  the  first  drops  dashed  on  the  window 

Told  of  the  coming  rain  ? 
What  bits  of  firelight  steaUng 

Their  dimpled  clieeks  between, 
Went  struggling  out  in  the  darkness 

In  shreds  of  silver  sheen  ! 


128  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

Two  of  the  feet  grew  weary- 
One  dreary,  dismal  day, 

And  Ave  tied  them  with  snow-white  ribbons, 
Leaving  him  there  by  the  way. 

There  was  fresh  clay  on  the  fender 
That  weary,  wintry  night, 

For  the  four  little  feet  had  tracked  it 

From  his  grave  on  the  bright  hill's  height. 

O  why,  on  this  darksome  evening. 

This  evening  of  rain  and  sleet. 
Rest  my  feet  all  alone  on  the  hearthstone  ? 

0,  where  are  those  other  feet? 
Are  they  treading  the  pathway  of  virtue 

That  will  bring  us  together  above  ? 
Or  have  they  made  steps  that  will  dampen 

A  sister's  tireless  love  ? 


THE   BRIDLE   ON  THE   WRONG  HORSE. 

REV.  Dr.  B was  remarkable  for  bis  skill  in  managing 
difficult  cases.  Any  adversary  wbo  tbougbt  to  gain  an 
advantage  over  bim  was  very  likely  to  find  bis  weapons 
turned  against  bimself  in  a  most  unexpected  manner.  The 
quickness  of  perception  and  promptness  of  action  Avbicli 
enabled  bim  to  secure  sucb  advantages  may  be  seen  from 
tbe  following  anecdote. 

At  a  time  when  certain  difficulties  existed  in  tbe  church  of 
which  he  was  pastor,  one  of  tbe  deacons,  feeling  aggrieved, 
thought  be  would  seek  redress  by  subjecting  bis  pastor  to  a 
course  of  discipline.  With  this  purpose  in  view,  be  called 
one  day  at  tbe  study.  As  soon  as  tbe  pastor  recognized  tbe 
visitor,  be  anticipated  tbe  object  of  the  visit,  and  determined 
to  forestall  him.     "Deacon  H ,"  said  be,  "  I  have  been 


FEED'S   GOLIATH.  129 

wanting  to  see  you  for  some  time."  Then,  referring  to  their 
difficulties,  said  to  him,  "  I  wish  you  to  regard  this  as  the 
first  step." 

The  deacon,  not  a  little  astonished,  replied,  "  I  came  to 
see  you  for  this  very  purpose,  and  to  take  the  same  step 
with  yoM." 

Soon  after  he  made  another  call,  taking  two  or  three  breth- 
ren with  him,  to  see  if  he  could  mend  the  matter.  But  again 
his  pastor  was  too  prompt  for  him.  As  soon  as  the  visitors 
arrived,  the  pastor  referred  to  the  difficulties  which  existed, 

said  what  he   chose,  and   then   added,  "  Deacon  H ,  I 

make  these  statements  in  the  presence  of  these  brethren,  and 
I  wish  you  to  regard  this  as  the  second  step." 

Being  thus  baffled  again,  the  deacon  wisely  concluded  to 
retreat,  and  as  he  left  the  house  he  said  to  the  brethren  who 
accompanied  him,  "  I  went  there  to  put  the  bridle  on  the  old 
priest,  and  he  got  the  bits  into  my  mouth." 


FEED'S    GOLIATH. 


T 


WAS  David  aimed  de  blow 
That  laid  de  Hittite  low," 


sang  flax-headed,  chubby  Fred  Eaton,  in  the  front  yard. 
With  fresh  apron  and  fresher  face,  just  from  the  v/ash-basin 
and  towel,  he  had  been  turned  out  to  play,  and  found  his  way 
through  the  front  gate  to  the  Wheaton  gravel-walk.  There 
he  was,  down  on  his  knees,  sorting  the  pebbles,  and  poking 
deep  in  the  sand  to  find  larger  ones.  His  hymn,  heard  at 
the  infant-class  in  Sunday  school,  had  fixed  itself  in  his  mind, 
and  he  was  singing  in  a  good  voice,  not  unmusical,  with  all 
its  want  of  tune.  The  words  seemed  to  suit  the  state  of  his 
mind,  for  he  sang  them  over  and  over  again.     Just  having 

9 


130  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

stopped  long  enough  to  disinter  a  larger  stone  than  common, 
he  was  breaking  out  again  Avith  triumphant  energy, 

"  'T  was  Da^^d  aimed  de  blow  —  " 

when  May  peeped  round  the  corner  and  laughed. 

"  What  are  you  doing,  Fred  ?  " 

"  Oh!  somefin'  great,"  he  answered,  too  busy  to  look  up, 
digging  away  with  serious  energy. 

"  But  you  're  spoiling  the  walk,  Fred.  Why,  we  sha'n't 
have  any  to  walk  to  church  on,  Sunday." 

This  idea  seemed  to  touch  Fred's  principles.  Not  to  go  to 
church  would  be  a  hard  thing  for  him,  and  he  straightened 
himself  up,  casting  doubtful  glances  at  the  torn  walk,  and 
his  sand-soiled  fingers. 

"  Are  you  making  a  house  ?  "  asked  Marian,  to  divert  him 
from  feeling  bad. 

"  No,"  he  said,  looking  up  gravely,  "  I'm  getting  stones  to 
kill  Goliar  with." 

"  Why,"  said  May,  laughing  as  quietly  as  possible,  "  don't 
you  know  David  killed  Goliath  long  ago  ?     He  's  dead  now." 

"  Not  my  Goliar,"  said  Fred,  sober  as  ever,  and  he  broke 
out  irrepressibly  in  the  last  line  of  his  song,  which  had  been 
waiting  to  come  forth  the  last  two  minutes. 

"  Where  is  your  Goliath  ? "  asked  May,  amused  with  the 
child's  odd  idea. 

"  Oh  !  "  with  a  long  sigh,  to  gather  his  thoughts  before 
him,  "  everybody  has  a  Goliar ;  muver  say,  I  've  got  one,  and 
muver  say  kill  it  "  ;  and  he  threw  down  a  pebble  that  would 
have  demolished  ten  giants  if  his  strength  and  will  had  been 
equal. 

"  What  is  your  Croliar?  "  was  the  next  question. 

The  little  full  mouth  curved  down,  and  the  honest  little 
face  took  on  such  a  look  of  positive  shame,  that  Mary  waa 
sorry  she  had  asked  him. 

"  Don't  like  to  be  washed,"  came  out  sorrowfully,  with 
such  a  look  of  unsubdued  repugnance  as  told  the  whole  stojy 
of  mutinies  against  cold  water  and  towels. 


FEED'S  GOLIATH.  131 

"  Oh,  there  you  are,"  said  young  Mrs.  Eaton  from  the 
other  side  of  the  fence  between  the  two  places.  Fred  looked 
startled  and  defiant  at  first,  but  it  was  funny  to  see  these  ex- 
pressions die  into  a  very  humble  and  resigned  appearance. 
I  honor  Fred's  mother,  because,  instead  of  shaking  him  up  or 
slapping  him,  she  saw  at  a  glance  the  wox'kings  of  his  small 
spirit,  and  wisely  left  him  to  come  to  peace.  She  wanted 
Mrs.  Wheaton's  cake-pan,  and  walked  round  to  get  it.  May 
was  left  by  the  gate  thinking.  In  how  many  ways  was  the 
conflict  of  sin  and  goodness  continually  coming  before  her. 

"  Lord  Jesus,  give  us  the  victory  over  flesh  and  sin,"  prayed 
Mr.  Yerner  in  the  pulpit  on  the  Sabbath,  —  prayed  as  if  he 
meant  it,  too,  as  if  there  was  a  sore  conflict  going  on,  and  his 
strength  was  failing  him. 

"  Help  me  to  watch  and  pray, 
The  conflict  ne'er  give  o'er," 

she  herself  sang  after  service,  feeling  very  resolute  to  over 
come  something  evil,  though  what  she  meant  to  figlit  waL: 
rather  indefmite,  even  to  her  enthusiasm.  Now,  in  the 
pleasant  losing  peace  of  the  worldly  week-day,  a  heavenly 
warning  was  sent  in  the  words  of  a  little  child.  Marian 
listened  to  what  Mrs.  Eaton  was  saying  as  she  went  back  to 
the  kitchen  door. 

"  I  thought  the  neighbors  would  think  I  was  misusing 
Fred  this  morning.  He  was  determined  not  to  have  his  face 
washed  after  breakfast,  and  he  was  so  obstinate  about  it,  that 
I  had  to  show  him  kindness  with  a  currant-stalk.  After  he 
cooled  down  a  little,  I  talked  to  him,  and  I  was  surprised  at 
the  good  it  did  him.  He  was  tiken  with  the  story  of  David 
and  Goliath  last  Sunday,  and  I  made  an  application  to  his 
case.  He  was  perfectly  ashamed  to  think  he  had  let  his  fault 
get  the  better,  or  the  worse,  rather,  of  him,  when  he  might 
have  overcome  it.  He  seemed  very  penitent,  and  submitted 
to  the  comb  and  brush  like  a  little  ChrisJ;ian.  I  don't  think 
my  words  did  the  work  though,"  and  the  smile  and  deep 
look  strove  together  in  her  face,  hinting  of  daily  prayers  es 


132  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

pended  on  erring  little  Fred.  "  Bnt  I  want  to  make  some 
gooseberry  nothings  for  his  dinner,  he  likes  'em  so,  and  I  'd 
like  to  try  your  receipt." 

Blessed  are  the  children  of  good  mothers,  who  know  when 
to  whip,  and  when  to  lecture,  and  when  to  give  them  goose- 
berry puffs  !  Mrs.  Eaton  called  Fred,  and  they  went  home 
lovingly  together.  Marian  shelled  peas,  and  thought.  Her 
resolutions  Sunday  evening  aimed  against  neglect  of  school 
duty  and  home  work,  as  her  besetting  enemy  to  clearness  of 
conscience  and  religious  comfort.  But  Sunday  resolutions 
and  Monday's,  but  especially  Tuesday's  inclinations,  had,  as 
usual,  held  severe  conflict,  and,  like  the  armies  of  Saul,  the 
resolutions  just  now  were  inactive,  and  kept  their  camp. 
What  was  Marian's  Goliath  ?  She  hated  to  look  it  in  the 
face. 

The  unused  back  chamber  was  to  be  swept,  and  put  in 
thoroiigh  order  that  vacation  week.  Then  a  composition  was 
to  be  written  for  the  next  Wednesday,  and  Marian  had  been 
shirking  these  duties  till  Friday  forenoon. 

"  Help  me  to  overcome  my  laziness,"  she  sighed  inwardly, 
to  One  who  was  listening ;  and,  seizing  the  broom  and  dust- 
pan, she  ran  swiftly  up  the  back  stairway. 


WHY  I  CANNOT  BE  A  UNIVERSALIST. 

I  AM  naturally  humane  and  tender-hearted.     I  shrink  from 
the  sight  of  suffering.     I  could  never  witness  the  decapi- 
tation of  a  chicken  without  a  shudder. 

Years  ago  I  saw  a  fair  infant  die  in  convulsions  ;  and  the 
pale,  distorted  face  still  haunts  me  in  my  dreams.  The  little 
one  sleeps  now,  thank  God,  on  a  green,  wooded  slope  that 
overlooks  the  sweet  vale  of  the  Housatonic.  Mequiescat  in 
pace  ! 


WHY  I   CANNOT   BE   A   UNIVERSALIST.  133 

Such  beiiig  my  nature,  I  would  gladly  believe  in  the  final 
salvation  of  all  men.  Think  you  the  belief  in  endless  punish- 
ment is  of  my  seeking  ?  Must  I  assure  my  reader  that  I 
have  struggled  against  it  ?  Alas  !  it  gives  me  no  pleasure  to 
believe  that  a  considerable  portion  of  my  fellow-men  are  ex- 
posed to  a  doom  so  fearful. 

Some  men  seem  to  have  the  faculty  of  believing  what  they 
wish.  Dr.  Johnson  steadily  refused  to  believe  in  the  Lisbon 
earthquake.  I  knew  a  man  when  I  was  a  boy,  who  professed 
to  believe  —  and  his  neighbors  never  doubted  his  sincerity 
—  that  he  would  never  die.  He  died,  however,  many  years 
ago  ;  and  his  grave  may  still  be  seen  on  the  beautiful  shore  of 
Chautauque  Lake.  The  Lisbon  earthquake  is  an  historical 
fact,  though  Dr.  Johnson  so  often  demonstrated  its  impos- 
sibility. This  faculty  of  believing  what  one  wishes  doubt- 
less contributes  to  the  gay  and  cheerful  mood  in  which  so 
many  pass  their  lives. 

Such  persons,  however,  are  hardly  to  be  envied.  For  my 
part,  I  would  rather  believe  the  true  than  the  agreeable  ;  for, 
in  the  long  run,  it  is  not  good  for  a  man  to  believe  a  lie,  how- 
ever pleasant.  This  is  the  reason  why  I  have  never  been  able 
to  believe  in  universal  salvation.  I  have  candidly  weighed 
the  arguments  commonly  adduced  to  prove  that  doctrine  ; 
but,  though  predisposed  by  a  kindly  and  cheerful  nature  to 
give  them  more  than  their  due  force,  they  have  failed  to 
convince  me. 

I  cannot  deny  that,  during  a  certain  period  of  my  life,  — 
the  first  few  years  of  manhood,  —  when,  without  knowing  it, 
I  was  a  Rationalist,  one  or  two  metaphysical  arguments  urged 
by  the  more  thoughtful  Universalists  seemed  to  me  wellnigh 
conclusive.  There  is  one  argument  which  even  noiv  has  the 
pleasant  look  of  a  demonstration.  As  my  readers  may  also 
have  encountered  it,  I  will  here  state  it  in  the  clearest  lan- 
guage I  can  command. 

God  is  infinite  in  benevolence,  wisdom,  and  power.  A 
God  infinitely  benevolent  must  will  the  final   holiness  and 


134  HOUSEHOLD   READING. 

happiness  of  all  men  ;  a  God  infinitely  wise  must  know  how 
to  accomplish  what  he  wills ;  a  God  infinitely  powerful  can 
accomplish  what  he  wills :  therefore,  all  men  will  be  finally 
holy  and  happy. 

There  !  is  not  that  a  neat  demonstration  ?  So,  I  confess, 
it  seemed  to  me,  in  the  days  when  Coleridge,  Schelling,  and 
Cousin  were  my  teachers  in  philosophy.  That  day  is  gone 
by.  I  have  come  to  distrust  all  arguments  which  assume 
that  the  human  mind  has  immediate  and  adequate  knowledge 
of  the  infinite.  This  mode  of  reasoning  is,  of  all,  the  most 
misleading  and  delusive,  and  grave  questions  of  fact  cannot  be 
determined  in  this  easy  way.  When  we  assume  that  we 
know  what  an  Infinite  Person,  a  free  agent,  will  or  will 
not  do,  in  given  circumstances,  we  are  on  the  high  road 
to  all  manner  of  extravagance  and  absurdity.  There  is 
not  a  truth  of  natural  religion  which  can  stand  before  this 
sort  of  demonstration.  For  example  :  God  is  infinite  ;  an 
infinite  God  must  include  all  being  ;  for  if  there  be  any  being 
not  included  in  him,  he  is  limited  by  that  being,  i.  e.  he  is 
not  infinite.  Therefore,  God  is  the  only  being ;  he  is  the 
world.  Thus  is  Pantheism  demonstrated  by  the  same  kind 
of  reasoning  which  has  convinced  so  many  of  the  impossibil- 
ity of  endless  punishment. 

In  the  same  way  we  may  prove  the  impossibility  of  crea- 
tion ;  God  is  absolutely  unchangeable.  Creation  is  the  put- 
ting forth  of  an  efficient  energy  which  had  previously  been 
merely  potential.  To  assert  that  God,  after  an  eternity  of  in- 
action, suddenly  roused  himself  to  the  work  of  creation,  is  to 
deny  his  unchangeableness.  The  conclusion  is  inevitable  ; 
God  did  not  create  the  world ;  the  world,  therefore,  existed 
from  eternity.  Here,  again,  the  Pantheist  finds  his  horrible 
creed  demonstrated  by  a  kind  of  reasoning  which  a  Univer- 
saKst  ought  to  feel  irresistible. 

The  very  argument  under  consideration  proves  much  more 
than  the  Universalist  wishes  to  prove.  Thus,  God  is  infinitely 
benevolent,  and  must  therefore  will  the  j^'^esent  holiness  and 


WHY  I   CANNOT   BE   A  UNIVERSALIST.  135 

happiness  of  all  men.  He  is  also  all-wise  and  omnipotent ; 
and  is  consequently  able  to  accomplish  what  he  wills  :  there- 
fore all  men  are  holy  and  happy. 

Is  not  this  good  reasoning  ?  Is  not  Divine  benevolence  as 
much  opposed  to  evil  now  as  it  will  be  millions  of  years 
hence  ?  And  is  that  benevolence  impotent  to  prevent  or 
annihilate  what  it  abhors  ?  What,  then  ?  Shall  we  shut 
our  eyes  to  facts  when  tbey  are  contradicted  by  a  syllogism  ? 
Rather  let  us  conclude  that  there  is  some  secret  vice  in  the 
syllogism. 

That  God  is  benevolent  is  an  essential  article  of  our  relig- 
ious creed.  To  deny  it  is  blasphemy.  But  what  do  we 
mean  when  we  say  that  God  is  benevolent  ?  Our  notion  of 
Divine  benevolence  is  derived  from  the  human  feeling  which 
we  call  by  that  name ;  for  we  have  no  immediate  knowledge 
of  the  Divine  nature.  Assuming  that  man  is  made  in  the 
image  of  his  Creator,  we  feel  ourselves  justified  in  ascribing 
to  God  the  purer  affections  of  which  we  are  conscious  in  our- 
selves. We  can  in  no  other  way  frame  a  conception  of  God. 
We  miist  incarnate  the  Deity  in  the  very  act  of  thinking  of 
him.  We  cannot,  if  we  would,  rise  above  the  conditions  of 
human  thought.  Our  notions  of  moral  attributes  and  moral 
actions,  our  notion  of  personality  itself,  can  only  come 
from  consciousness.  Hence,  when  we  say  that  God  is  be- 
nevolent, we  do  not  speak  from  an  intuition  of  his  essential 
nature  ;  but  we  mean,  or  ought  to  mean,  that  human  benev- 
olence is  truly  representative  of  the  moral  character  of  God. 
I  say  truli/  representative ;  but  it  is  highly  important  to  ob- 
serve that  the  representation  is  not  adequate,  because  the 
benevolence  of  man  is  finite,  whereas  Divine  benevolence  is 
infinite.  When,  however,  we  say  that  God  is  infinitely  be- 
nevolent, we  express  not  any  positive  knowledge,  but  our  con- 
scious ignorance.  We  frame  a  notion  of  benevolence  as  large 
as  our  finite  faculties  can  entertain,  and  then  say  to  ourselves, 
the  benevolence  of  God  is  immensely  greater.  We  confess 
our  inability  to  think   how  benevolent  he   is.     For   if  any 


136  HOUSEHOLD  EEADING. 

philosophical  truth  has  been  demonstrated,  it  is  the  doctrine 
of  Sir  William  Hamilton,  that  the  human  mind  can  form  no 
positive  conception  of  the  infinite. 

It  follows  that  an  argument  based  on  the  infinity  of  Divine 
benevolence  is  pure  nonsense. 

And  an  argument  from  the  nature  of  Divine  benevolence 
is  extremely  perilous  ;  for  it  invariably  assumes,  either  cov- 
ertly or  formally,  that  a  benevolent  God  will  do  what  a  be- 
nevolent man  would  do  in  the  same  circumstances.  Such  a 
principle  would  make  sad  work  in  Natural  Theology.  For 
example :  a  perfectly  benevolent  man  would  exempt  the 
brute  creation  from  suffering.  For  myself,  I  frankly  confess 
that  many  things  in  the  world  are  not  at  all  in  harmony  with 
my  feelings  and  wishes.  I  would  have  all  the  tribes  of 
animals  as  happy  as  they  can  be.  There  should  be  no  pain, 
no  fear,  no  want,  no  slaughter,  no  death  ;  but  one  infinite  joy 
palpitating  through  air,  earth,  and  ocean.  But  what  do  I 
see  ?  "  We  know  that  the  whole  creation  groaneth  and  trav- 
aileth  in  pain  together  until  now."  I  learn  from  the  "  stone 
book  "  that  the  world  began  to  throb  with  its  age-long  travail 
long  before  man  was  created,  or  sin  had  broken  forth  to  deso- 
late the  works  of  God.  Reader,  you  would  not  have  made 
such  a  world  ;  are  you,  then,  more  benevolent  than  God  ? 
You  are  a  man  ;  your  benevolence  is  human,  not  Divine. 
God's  thoughts  are  not  your  thoughts  ;  neither  are  his  ways 
your  ways. 

Granting,  what  some  ignorantly  assert,  that  the  sufferings 
of  brutes  are  the  consequences  of  human  depravity,  the  prob- 
lem, so  far  from  being  solved,  becomes  more  perplexing  and 
mysterious.  For  it  would  seem  to  us  that  a  God  of  infinite 
benevolence  would  not  have  permitted  our  human  world  to 
be  cursed  with  sin.  Those  who  say  he  could  not  have  pre- 
vented sin,  do  not  even  understand  the  problem  which  they 
dispose  of  so  flippantly.  We  must  take  the  facts  as  they  are  ; 
and  they  are  sufficiently  appalling  without  adding  to  them  a 
■»'ash  denial  of  God's  omnipotence.     Here  is  a  world  which, 


WHY  I   CANNOT   BE  A  UNIVERSALIST.  137 

during  six  thousand  years,  lias  been  the  sad  theatre  of  crime 
and  suffering.  The  millions  of  the  human  family  have,  for 
the  most  part,  lived  and  died  in  ignorance,  vice,  and  misery. 
Every  country  has  been  deluged  with  blood.  Survey  the 
great  battle-fields  of  the  world,  —  its  Leipsics,  Wagrams, 
Waterloos,  Solferinos,  —  its  prisons  and  penitentiaries,  its 
armies  of  thieves,  burglars,  incendiaries,  robbers,  murderers, 
pirates ;  imagine  the  abominations  of  slavery  and  the  slave- 
trade  ;  gather  into  one  dread  group  the  crimes  of  all  ages, 
and  then  say  whether  you  ivould  have  made  such  a  world! 
Are  you,  then,  more  benevolent  than  Giod?  Or  will  you  not 
rather  conclude  that  benevolence  in  God  is  something  very 
different  from  that  "  rose-water  philanthropy  "  which  some 
in  our  day  would  fain  elevate  to  the  rank  of  a  Divine  attri- 
bute? 

It  would  seem,  from  all  this,  that  the  benevolence  of  God  is 
rather  a  practical  than  a  speculative  truth.  It  is  a  truth  to 
soften  our  hearts,  to  awaken  our  gratitude,  to  allay  our  griefs, 
to  lead  us  to  repentance,  to  incite  us  to  obedience ;  but  it  is 
not  a  key  to  unlock  the  mysteries  of  the  world.  We  cannot 
deduce  from  it  a  scheme  of  Providence.  It  will  not  enable 
us  to  predict  what  God  will  or  will  not  do  in  given  circum- 
stances. 

Clearly,  benevolence  in  God  is  not  a  simple  feeling  of  good 
nature,  but  an  infinite  perfection ;  that  is  to  say,  it  is  an  at- 
tribute whose  nature  and  workings  we  cannot  comprehend. 
Those  who  speak  of  it  and  reason  from  it,  as  a  single,  pre- 
dominant disposition  to  make  men  happy,  are  shallow  and 
over-bold.  Perhaps  it  is  an  infinite  and  complex  impulse  of 
the  Divine  nature  to  what  is  best. 

Thus  it  appears  that  the  argument  against  future  punish- 
ment, based  on  Divine  benevolence,  is  inconclusive  and  absurd. 

The  question,  being  one  of  fact,  cannot  be  determined  by  a 
priori  reasoning.  For  the  same  reason,  the  argument  from 
the  justice  of  God  falls  to  the  ground.  It  is  of  the  same 
vicious  kind. 


188  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

There  is  another  kind  of  reasoning,  based  on  experience,  — 
commonly  called  the  argument  from  the  analogy  of  the  course 
of  nature,  —  which  is  applicable  to  this  great  question,  and 
•which,  though  not  absolutely  decisive,  is  perfectly  legitimate. 


DREAMED    IT. 


THE  other  morning,  a  little  boy  about  five  years  old,  who 
is  attending  one  of  our  public  schools,  went  to  his 
mother,  and  told  her,  with  the  greatest  apparent  frankness 
and  sincerity,  that  his  teacher  had  punished  him  the  day  pre- 
vious. He  also  showed  her  on  his  hand  what  he  said  were 
the  marks  of  the  ferule.  Now,  John  was  usually  a  very  good 
boy,  and  his  mother  was  greatly  surprised  and  grieved  when 
she  heard  this. 

"  Why  did  the  teacher  punish  you  ?  "  she  inquired,  anx- 
iously. 

"  Because  I  disobeyed  her,"  was  the  prompt  reply. 

"  What  did  you  do,  my  son  ?  " 

"  When  she  told  me  not  to  do  a  thing,  I  did  n't  mind  her," 
said  Johnny. 

Then  his  mother  talked  to  him  very  seriously,  and  told  him 
how  naughty  it  was  to  disobey  his  kind  teacher,  and  how 
sorry  she  felt,  and  asked  him  if  he  was  not  sorry  too,  and  if 
he  would  not  ask  his  teacher  to  forgive  him. 

He  seemed  to  feel  quite  badly,  and  said  he  woiild.  So 
when  he  entered  school,  he  went  directly  to  his  teacher,  and 
told  her  he  was  very  sorry  he  had  disobeyed  her,  and  com- 
pelled her  to  punish  him,  and  asked  her  forgiveness. 

His  teacher  did  n't  seem  to  understand  him,  and  looked 
very  much  astonished.  After  a  moment's  thought,  she  said, 
"  Why,  Johnny,  I  think  you  must  be  mistaken.  I  have  no 
recollection  of  punishing  you  yesterday."     But,  to  make  sure 


THE   SWEETEST   WORD.  139 

of  the  mattei,  she  turned  to  the  school  and  said,  "  Cliildren, 
did  I  punish  little  Johnny  yesterday  ?  "  '■''  No,maam!  no, 
ma'am  !  "  shouted  a  score  of  voices.  Tlie  teacher  smiled, 
and,  turning  to  Johnny,  she  said,  "  What  made  you  think  so  ? 
I  guess  you  dreamed  it.''''  Tlie  little  fellow's  face  brightened 
up  at  the  suggestion,  and  he  exclaimed,  "  0  yes !  I  remem- 
ber now  ;  I  dreamed  it  last  night,  and  thought  it  was  true!'''' 
A  good  laugli  followed  this  explanation,  in  which  little 
Johnny  joined  heartily. 

Johnny's  parents  were  very  happy  to  learn  that  what  had 
seemed  to  be  a  serious  fault  in  their  dear  boy  was  "  onhj  a 
dreamt  They  were  also  glad  to  witness  his  apparent  readi- 
ness to  make  amends  for  his  supposed  disobedience.  I  hope 
all  the  children  who  read  this  will  imitate  Johnny's  frank- 
ness, in  confessing  their  real  faults  to  their  parents  and  teach- 
ers, and  also  to  God,  their  Heavenly  Father,  seeking  his  for- 
giveness and  blessing. 


THE    SWEETEST    WORD 

ONE  sweet  word  of  holy  meaning 
Cometh  to  me  o'er  and  o'er, 
And  the  echoes  of  its  music 
Linger  ever,  evermore ; 
Trust,  —  no  other  Avord  we  uttet 
Can  so  sweet  and  precious  be, 
Tuning  all  life's  jarring  discords 
Into  heavenly  harmony. 

Clouds  of  thickest  blackness  gathered 
O'er  my  soul's  dark  sea  of  sin. 
And  the  port  of  heaven  was  guarded 
From  mj'  gi^uhy  entering  in  ; 


140  HOUSEHOLD  EEADING. 

Then  came  Jesus,  walking  to  me, 
O'er  the  sui'ging  waves  of  sin, 
Calling,  clear  above  the  tempest, 
"  He  that  trusteth  heaven  shall  win  ! " 

Now,  through  all  the  sacred  pages. 
Where  my  woe  and  doom  had  been, 
Gleam  those  golden  words  of  promise, 
"  He  that  trusteth  heaven  shall  win." 
Blessed,  sure,  and  blood-bought  promise, 
Let  me  drink  its  sweetness  in,  — 
He  that  trusts  his  soul  to  Jesus, 
"  He  that  trusteth  heaven  shall  win." 

Trust,  —  0  Saviour,  give  its  fulness 
To  me  at  thy  feet  in  prayer. 
Grant  my  dying  lips  to  breathe  it, 
Leave  its  lingering  sweetness  there ; 
Sweetness  there,  to  stay  the  breaking 
Of  the  hearts  which  love  me  so. 
Whispering  from  my  silent  coffin, 
"  Trust  the  hand  which  lays  me  low.* 

Loved  ones,  as  ye  rear  the  marble, 
Pure  above  my  waiting  dust, 
Grave  no  other  word  upon  it 
But  the  holiest,  sweetest,  —  Tkust  ; 
For  this  password  know  the  angels, 
Guarding  o'er  the  pearly  door, 
Password  to  His  blessed  presence, 
Whom  I  trust  foreverraore. 


REMINISCENCES    OF   COBDEN.  141 


REMINISCENCES    OF    COBDEN. 

MR.  COBDEN'S  death  was  precipitated  by  his  interest  in 
American  affairs.  Throughout  the  war  he  had  been 
our  stanch  friend,  and  the  judicious  advocate  of  our  cause  ; 
and  liis  anxiety  to  prevent  a  new  cause  of  irritation  between 
England  and  the  United  States  hurried  him  to  London,  from 
his  sick-chamber,  to  oppose  the  foolish  scheme  of  Canadian 
fortification. 

In  their  early  history,  in  their  personal  traits,  and  in  their 
public  services,  there  was  much  in  common  between  Richard 
Cobden  and  Abraham  Lincoln.  Mr.  Cobden  sprang  from 
"  the  plain  people,"  being  the  son  of  a  small  farmer  at  Dun- 
ford,  near  Midhurst.  With  little  preliminary  education,  he 
was  early  sent  to  London  to  acquire  a  knowledge  of  trade  in 
a  warehouse.  Afterward  he  became  a  commercial  traveller, 
and  then  a  partner  in  a  manufacturing  house  at  Manchester. 
Thus  a  life  of  toil  and  industry,  and  of  wide  intercourse  with 
men  of  business,  prepared  him  to  lead  the  policy  of  his 
country  upon  questions  of  political  economy.  Like  Mr,  Lin- 
coln, he  snatched  from  manual  labor  hours  for  the  improve- 
ment of  his  mind  by  study,  and  disciplined  himself  for  a  part 
in  public  life.  Few  men  have  gained  so  complete  a  mastery 
of  the  English  language  (and  he  spoke  French  also  with 
an  almost  native  fluency  and  accent)  ;  and  few  statesmen 
have  attained  to  such  comprehensive  views  of  national  policy. 

Mr.  Cobden's  mind  was  clear,  sagacious,  honest,  and  thor- 
oughly practical.  He  always  mastered  his  subject  so  fully  in 
his  closet  meditations,  that  he  could  speak  upon  it  in  Parlia- 
ment or  before  a  popular  assembly  with  the  ease?  and  readi- 
ness of  a  private  conversation.  His  memory  was  so  trust- 
worthy, his  knowledge  so  ample,  his  self-possession  so  assured, 
that  he  could  talk  for  hours  without  notes,  and  without  verbal 


142  HOUSEHOLD   READING. 

preparation.  His  public  speaking  was  animated  talking,  with 
none  of  the  arts  of  oratory,  but  with  strong  good  sense,  and  a 
downright  honesty  of  purpose  that  commanded  attention,  in- 
spired confidence,  and  often  wrought  conviction  against  prej- 
udice and  interest.  I  heard  him,  in  1852,  at  Manchester, 
review  Lord  Derby's  ministry  in  a  plain,  clear,  matter-of-fact 
way,  thai  held  the  audience  as  closely  as  did  Mr,  Bright's 
impassioned  address.  It  was  a  good  illustration  of  Daniel 
Webster's  ideal  of  convincing  eloquence,  —  "  clearness,  force, 
earnestness."  Every  word  was  in  its  place  and  for  its  pur- 
pose.    He  was  the  great  master  of  economical  science. 

Mr.  Cobden's  public  career  was  marked  by  an  unselfish 
devotion  to  principle  and  to  the  welfare  of  humanity.  No 
temptations  of  office  could  swerve  him  from  his  duty.  If  the 
world  were  ripe  for  his  policy  of  peace  and  free-trade,  its 
political  millennium  would  have  come.  "  He  gave  bread  to 
the  hungry,  he  sought  to  stay  the  devastations  of  war,  and  to 
unite  together  in  the  bonds  of  brotherhood  all  the  nations  of 
the  earth."  A  beautiful  example  of  his  devotion  to  human- 
ity, as  well  as  of  the  tenderness  of  his  heart,  is  mentioned 
by  Mr.  Bright  in  his  personal  reminiscences  of  his  illustri- 
ous colleague.  Mr.  Cobden  had  sought  to  enlist  Mr.  Bright 
in  the  service  of  the  Anti-Corn  Law  League,  but  with  only 
partial  success.  In  1839,  Mr.  Bright  was  thrown  into  a 
state  of  mental  despondency,  in  consequence  of  the  death  of 
his  wife.  Mr.  Cobden  went  to  visit  him,  and  aficr  condoling 
with  him  in  his  personal  grief,  reminded  him  that  there  we're 
at  that  moment  thousands  of  widows  and  children  starvhig 
for  bread,  which  was  kept  from  them  by  the  tax  upon  food. 
"  Come  with  me,"  said  Cobden,  "  and  we  wall  never  rest 
until  we  abolish  the  Corn  Laws." 

In  private  life,  Mr.  Cobden  was  modest,  simple,  and  genial 
in  his  manners,  and  his  conversation  was  full  of  vivacity  and 
wisdom.  I  spent  an  evening  at  his  house  in  company  -with 
Professor  Upham,  in  a  familiar  talk  upon  educational  mat- 
ters, in  which  he  was  then  specially  interested.     I  shall  never 


EEMINISCENCES   OF   COBDEN.  143 

forget  the  frankness  of  his  welcome,  the  ease  of  his  manners, 
the  quickness  of  his  perception,  the  heartiness  of  his  interest 
in  American  affairs,  the  tliorouglmess  of  liis  information  upon 
the  topic  in  hand.  He  gave  us  amusing  instances  of  the 
ignorance  of  the  common  people  of  England,  — ;  especially  of 
the  difficulty  he  had  found  in  trying  to  make  a  country  audi- 
ence understand  who  Kossuth  was,  and  where  Hungary  lay. 
He  begged  us,  laughingly,  not  to  use  the  American  privilege 
of  reporting  his  free  conversation  in  the  newspapers  !  Ho 
lamented  the  blindness  of  the  religious  people  of  England  in 
maintaining  sectarian  schools  to  the  exclusion  of  a  national 
system  of  popular  education.  At  his  instance,  I  prepared  an 
account  of  our  common-school  system,  which  was  given  in 
evidence  before  the  Educational  Commission  of  the  House  of 
Commons. 

This  casual  association  with  educational  affairs  gave  mo 
an  opportunity  of  observing  Mr.  Cobden  still  more  closely 
during  his  last  visit  to  New  York,  in  1859.  I  accompanied 
him  to  several  of  our  public  schools.  He  manifested  the 
deepest  interest  in  the  method  of  instruction,  and  especially 
in  the  quiet  way  in  which  religious  exercises  were  intro- 
duced. He  could  not  repress  his  astonishment  at  finding  in 
a  free  school  a  class  of  misses  pursuing  the  higher  mathe- 
matics with  a  thoroughness  and  a  zest  worthy  of  Cambridge 
itself.  On  leaving  a  boys'  school,  where  he  had  been  received 
with  cheers,  he  said  to  me,  somewhat  abruptly,  "  Do  not  take 
me  to  any  more  boys'  schools;  I  cannot  bear  it."  The  tremor 
of  his  lips,  and  the  tear  in  his  eye,  reminded  me  that  just  be- 
fore leaving  England  he  had  laid  in  the  grave  his  only  son,  a 
boy  of  some  fourteen  years,  the  hope  of  his  life.  In  that  in- 
stant I  looked  down  into  the  depths  of  a  loving  soul,  and  from 
that  instant  I  have  loved  the  man  whom  I  had  before  admired 
and  honored. 

Coming  to  the  study  where  now  I  write,  and  taking  the 
church  edifice  for  a  text,  he  talked  for  an  hour,  witli  much 
enthusiasm,  of  the  marvellous  results  of  the  voluntary  prin- 


144  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

ciple  in  religion,  aud  of  the  many  great  things  that  lay  within 
the  reach  of  the  people  of  the  United  States.  Mr.  Cobden 
was  accustomed  to  say,  "  You  have  no  hold  of  any  one  who 
has  no  religious  faith."  What  he  made  a  ground  of  confi- 
dence in  others,  he  made  also  the  strength  of  his  own  soul. 
In  him  England  has  lost  a  leader,  America  a  helper,  human- 
ity a  friend.  |,  ^         ^__ 


'--^1  CARDS. 

THEY  were  seated  at  their  card-table,  four  fine  stalwart 
soldiers.     The  play  was  dull. 

"  Put  up  a  stake  !  "  some  of  them  said. 

"  No,"  said  Wilson,  "  I  never  play  for  money." 

'•  Why  not  ?  " 

"  I  never  do." 

"  Try  it  once,  and  see  how  much  more  of  a  game  it  makes. 
You  'd  be  surprised." 

"  What  difference  can  it  make  ?  " 

"  Try  it  once,  and  you  '11  see." 

A  dime  was  the  stake,  and  for  the  first  time  Wilson  played 
for  money.  The  game  had  a  new  interest.  He  played  on, — 
losing,  winning.  He  "  never  knew  before  how  much  could 
be  got  from  cards,"  he  said,  as  he  left  the  table.  He  played 
for  money  again  and  still  again.  At  last  he  had  lost  all.  He 
had  received  his  pay,  had  staked  and  lost  it.  Nothing  left  to 
send  to  his  family.     He  was  desperate. 

"  I  cannot  give  up  now,"  he  said.  "  I  must  have  some- 
thing back  "  ;  and  as  he  thought  of  his  poor  wife  and  chil- 
dren he  grew  more  desperate. 

"  Lend  me  !  "  he  insisted. 

They  lent  him  ;  and  he  played  on,  wildly,  madly.  He 
loses  again,  loses  constantly.  What  luck !  But  he  will 
not  stop.     He  plays  on  till  no  one  will  lend  him  more.     He 


CAEDS.  145 

leaves  his  cards  a  wretched  man.  To-morrow  he  would  have 
written  home  ;  sent  money,  needed  there.  He  cannot  write 
now,  for  the  money  has  been  lost,  and  lost  so  foolishly, 
so  wickedly.  "  Wretch,  to  have  lost  it ! "  he  exclaims. 
"  Wretch,  to  have  risked  it !  " 

What  now  can  he  do  ?     Suffer.     Naught  else  ?     Repent. 

In  the  thoughtful  twilight,  Wilson  sat  alone,  or  seemed  to 
sit  alone,  but  his  wife  and  children  were  with  him,  —  his  pret- 
ty girls  and  sturdy  boys,  all  there  ;  but  they  rejoiced  him  not. 
They  crowded  round  him  ;  he  shrank  from  them.  Their  fond 
greetings  gave  him  pain.  Each  word  of  his  gentle  wife  smote 
him  ;  the  prattle  of  his  babes  tortured  him,  for  he  had 
wronged  them  ;  he  had  played  away  their  living.  The  gam- 
ing-table was  before  him,  and  every  stake  upon  it  took  shape, 
and  he  saw  plainer  than  ever  what  he  had  done. 

That  first  stake,  that  first  dime,  was  little  Nanny's  writing- 
book.  The  child  wanted  to  learn  to  write,  —  all  the  more  that 
she  might  write  letters  to  "  father  "  ;  now  she  cannot  learn  ; 
she  will  fall  behind  her  class.  Ho  saw  her  first  grief  and  tears 
at  her  deprivation  ;  he  saw  her  daily  regrets  and  efforts  at  pa- 
tience. Ah,  Nanny,  whose  kisses  used  to  be  so  sweet !  They 
should  be  sweeter  since  her  spirit  has  grown  lovelier  in  its  trial, 
but  they  sting  the  father,  they  fill  him  with  self-reproach. 
Played  away  her  writing-book !     No  letters  from  her  now  ! 

And  that  second  dime,  —  it  was  Hugh's  slate.  It  is  gone  ; 
and  gone  with  it  a  winter's  ciphering.  Staked  so  lightly,  — 
but  what  a  loss  to  Hugh  ! 

He  saw  his  wife's  little  comforts  swept  off  the  board,  even 
her  cup  of  tea.  When  weary  she  must  sink,  when  sick  she 
must  faint  for  want  of  it.  He  had  played  it  away  to  add  zest 
to  a  half-hour's  amusement.  "  Wretch  !  "  he  called  himself 
again. 

In  the  first  dollar  staked  and  lost,  he  saw  a  pair  of  chil- 
dren's shoes ;  they  were  his  own  boy's  ;  Johnny's  feet  would 
be  pinched  and  frost-bitten  by  the  sharp  cold,  and  bruised 
and  torn  by  the  frozen  ground.     Wilson  saw  his  stout-heai'ted 

10 


146  HOUSEHOLD  BEADING. 

boy  trying  to  bear  the  pain  of  cold  and  frost  without  com- 
plaint or  flinching,  saw  his  bleeding  feet,  his  shivering  frame, 
and  was  ashamed  of  his  own  selfish  folly ;  would  have  hid 
himself,  would  have  shrunk  to  nothing  if  he  could.  What 
was  he  ?  What  must  he  have  been  to  play  away  the  shoes 
of  his  child  ?     Did  none  other  man  do  it  ?     Never  one. 

He  played  away  all  the  wood,  too,  and  the  embers  barely 
lived  upon  the  hearth,  and  the  younger  children  crowded 
round  them  almost  in  vain,  while  the  brave  barefoot  boy 
hunted  every  stray  stick  to  keep  the  fire  alive. 

Worse  and  worse !  he  played  away  the  bread,  the  bag  of 
meal.  The  baby's  milk,  —  he  put  that  up  too.  He  was  a 
monster  to  do  it ;  no  more  the  man  he  had  been.  He  saw  his 
children,  pale  and  sick  with  hunger,  heard  the  piteous  wail 
of  the  little  ones  as  they  pleaded  for  food,  saw  the  older  ones 
go  away  and  weep  in  silence,  while  the  mother  could  only 
pray  to  Him  who  feedeth  the  young  ravens  when  they  cry. 
Could  the  gambler  see  all  this  and  still  play  on  ? 

Wilson  had  played  his  last  game. 

"  Play,  Wilson,"  they  said  the  next  day. 

"  I  've  lost  all,"  he  answered. 

"  We  're  not  playing  for  money.     Take  a  hand." 

"  No." 

"  Why  not  ?  " 

"  I  've  done  with  cards." 

"  Never  going  to  play  any  more  ?  " 

"  Never." 

"  Why  not  ?  " 

"  Have  n't  they  robbed  me  ?  "  he  exclaimed  in  bitterness  ; 
"  robbed  me  of  everything  ?  and,  what 's  worse,  robbed  my 
family,  my  poor  wife,  my  young  children ;  robbed  them  of 
food  and  clothes  and  fire,  and  left  them  hungry  and  bare  to 
the  cold  ?  God  pity  them  !  for  I  forgot  them.  I  've  played 
enough,  —  too  much."    And  he  turned  away  from  the  cards. 

Day  after  day  he  turned  away  while  his  comrades  played, 
"  Never  again,  Wilson  ?  "  they  said,  as  he  left  them. 


THAT   SUM  IN   ADDITION.  147 

"  Never,'"  was  still  his  answer. 

The  soldiers  had  been  paid,  and  Wilson  had  returned  the 
money  loaned  to  him.    The  cards  were  out ;  the  men  at  play. 

"  Play  with  us,  Wilson.  You  've  money  now ;  and  you  're 
yourself  again." 

"  I  hope  I  am ;  and  I  hope  never  to  lose  myself  in  the 
gambler  again.  Now,  comrades,  I  've  a  word  to  say,  and  so 
have  you.  I  cannot  trust  myself  to  play  with  cards  again, 
and  I  cannot  trust  myself  to  see  them  played.  I  am  weak, 
but  not  so  weak  that  I  don't  know  my  weakness.  Shall  I 
leave  this  tent  ?  or  shall  the  cards  go  ?  " 

"  Leave  this  tent !     Why,  we  can't  spare  you." 

"  Can  you  spare  the  cards  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  Then  I  must  go." 

"  Sooner  the  cards  than  you.  We  can't  spare  our  best 
man,  Wilson." 

Wilson  remained  ;  never  quite  the  same  man  again,  but  a 
better  one,  more  thoughtful,  less  selfish.  In  his  anguish  and 
penitence,  in  his  weakness  and  temptation,  he  had  sought  the 
God  of  mercy  and  of  strength.  "  In  the  day  of  trouble,  he 
had  called  upon  the  Lord,"  and  the  Lord  had  heard  him. 


THAT    SUM    IN    ADDITION. 

ONE  of  the  eminent  among  the  ancients  proposed  a  problem 
in  mathematics  to  a  circle  of  his  friends.  He  was  him- 
self very  skilful  and  successful  in  working  out  such  problems, 
took  the  greatest  pleasure  in  such  work,  and  very  much 
desired  all  his  friends  to  engage  in  the  same  sort  of  employ- 
ment, that  they  might  share  his  pleasure.  The  problem  above 
referred  to  is  on  i^ecord,  and  many,  since  the  old  mathemati- 
cian's days,  have  undertaken  to  work  it  out.  More  have  failed 
than  have  succeeded,  and  those  who  have  had  some  success, 


148  HOUSEHOLD   READING. 

have  never  been  satisfied  with  tlieir  work ;  and  the  more 
earnest  of  them  kept  to  work  on  the  problem  till  the  very  end 
of  life.  Now  it  is  a  very  simple  problem,  in  the  very  simplest 
rule  in  arithmetic,  which  creates  the  more  surprise  at  so 
many  failures.  As  some  of  our  readers  might  like  to  know 
what  the  problem  is,  that  they  may  try  their  skill  upon  it,  we 
transcribe  from  the  ancient  record  :  "  Add  to  your  faith  vir- 
tue ;  and  to  virtue,  knowledge ;  and  to  knowledge,  temperance ; 
and  to  temperance,  patience  ;  and  to  patience,  godliness  ;  to 
godliness,  brotherly  kindness ;  and  to  brotherly  kindness, 
charity." 

Now  there  are  but  eight  figures  in  the  column,  —  eight 
Christian  virtues  to  be  added  together,  and  all  the  more  sad, 
therefore,  that  so  many  have  attempted  to  put  these  virtues 
together,  and  have  failed.  Some  have  failed  one  way,  and 
some  another.  Some  have  left  out  one  of  the  items,  and 
some  another.  One  drops  out  patience,  and  so  fails.  An- 
other cannot  seem  to  get  temperance  in  so  as  to  reach  the 
right  result.  Some  think  the  result  will  come  right  if  they 
do  happen  to  miss  a  figure  and  drop  a  virtue  ;  but  it  won't, 
and  they  must  do  it  all  over  again. 

It  would  suit  some  admirably  if,  while  they  keep  the  whole 
number  of  figures,  they  might  make  an  exchange,  —  drop 
temperance,  for  example,  and  put  in  industry  ;  or  drop  godli- 
ness, and  put  in  honesty ;  but  the  problem  is  not  solved  by 
any  such  change.  We  are  to  take  the  items  to  be  added  just 
as  they  stand. 

Two  things  more. 

1.  Let  no  one  be  discouraged  because  he  cannot  do  this 
sum  on  the  first  trial.  Every  serious  and  earnest  attempt  to 
add  one  of  these  virtues  to  another  has  been  partially  success- 
ful, has  increased  the  skill  in  this  kind  of  mathematics,  and 
made  final  success  more  hopeful. 

2.  A  very  great  reward  is  offered  to  every  one  that  suc- 
ceeds. No  potentate  of  this  world  ever  has  or  ever  could 
make  such  an  offer.     The  reward  follows  the  problem  in  the 


SOJOURNER   TRUTH.  149 

old  book  referred  to,  and  runs  thus :  "  For  if  these  things  be 
in  you  and  abound,  they  make  you  that  ye  shall  be  neither 
barren  nor  unfruitful  in  the  knowledge  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ."  And  that  knowledge  secures  everlasting  life.  Can 
any  human  being  do  better  than  to  become  as  skilful  as  pos- 
sible in  this  kind  of  arithmetic  ? 


SOJOURNER    TRUTH. 

SEEING  some  account  of  this  remarkable  colored  woman 
in  a  contemporary  paper  lately,  has  reminded  me  of  a 
purpose  to  contribute  my  mite  toward  perpetuating  her  just 
fame.  Her  early  history  is  given  at  length  in  a  Iwographical 
sketch  written  by  some  friend,  and  which  she  has  sometimes 
sold  as  a  means  of  livelihood.  She  was  born  a  slave  in  Ulster 
County,  New  York,  and  manumitted  by  law,  I  think,  in  1824. 
I  do  not  propose  to  repeat  the  facts  of  that  book,  but  sim- 
ply to  give  a  few  characteristic  anecdotes  learned  in  a  visit  a 
few  months  ago  to  Battle  Creek,  Michigan,  which  had  been  her 
home  for  some  years  previous  to  the  war.  She  owns,  near 
that  village,  a  little  house  and  lot,  but  has  ordinarily  sup- 
ported herself  by  lecturing,  and  by  the  sale  of  her  book  and 
photograph.  Two  or  three  years  ago  she  was  quite  sick, — 
had  a  bad  cough,  and  was  thought  to  be  in  a  decline,  and  near 
death.  The  neighbors  supplied  her  wants  till  she  grew  better 
and  wanted  to  go  about  again.  But  she  was  very  destitute, 
and  in  her  simple  way  she  said,  she  "  went  and  talked  to  the 
Lord  about  it,"  and  after  a  while  it  seemed  to  her,  she  said, 
tliat  the  Lord  would  really  help  her.  Then  she  turned  over 
in  her"  mind  how  he  would  help  her,  and  whether  she  could 
do  anything  to  forward  the  matter.    (She  believes  in  works  as 

w^ell  as  faith  !)     She  remembered  that  there  was  a  Mr.  D , 

who  used  to  hear  her  lecture  in  Pennsylvania,  and  who,  she 


150  HOUSEHOLD   READING. 

thought,  if  he  kuew  her  circumstances,  would  interest  his 
neighbors  for  her.  So  she  got  a  friend  to  write  a  letter  for 
her  to  him  (she  cannot   read  or  write).      After  the  letter 

was  written  she  learned  that  INIr.  D had  moved  to  Iowa. 

That,  she  thought,  spoiled  her  plan. 

"  I  've  never  bin  to  Iowa.  Nobody  there  knows  me.  It 's 
no  use  to  send  the  letter."     However,  she  was  persuaded  to 

mail  it.     In   due   time    an   answer  came.     Mr.  D had 

made  a  contribution.  His  new  neighbors  had  been  interested, 
and  made  a  contribution.  He  also  sent  the  letter  to  his  old 
neighbors  in  Pennsylvania,  and  they  sent  contributions. 
They  forwarded  the  letter  to  the  "  Anti-Slavery  Standard  " 
in  New  York.  It  was  published  and  scattered  all  over  the 
North,  and  then  the  donations  came  in  from  all  quarters, 
"  from  folks,"  she  said,  "  that  she  never  hearn  on,"  remit- 
tances of  ten  dollars  and  five  dollars,  direct  donations,  and 
to  purchase  her  photograph,  till  Sojourner  Truth  had  more 
letters  than  any  business  firm  in  Battle  Creek.  She  said, 
"  So  much  come  in  I  did  n't  know  what  to  do  with  it,  an' 
all  from  that  little  talk  I  had  with  the  Lord.  An'  I  had  at 
last  to  tell  the  Lord  he  might  as  well  stop  that  are," 

She  is  quick  at  a  repartee,  and  no  person  attacks  her  with- 
out coming  off  second  best.  She  went  to  the  market  one  day, 
and  a  Copperhead  there  took  occasion  to  speak  to  the  butcher 
of  the  colored  race ;  that  they  were  just  fit  for  slaves,  that 
God  Almighty  made  them  for  slaves,  and  intended  they  should 
be  slaves.  Sojourner,  knowing  that  the  talk  was  meant  for 
her,  looked  him  in  the  face  and  said,  "  Sir,  you  ain't  ac- 
quainted with  God  Almighty  !  That 's  what 's  the  matter 
with  you." 

She  was  in  the  store  of  another  Copperhead,  whom  she  did 
not  personally  know,  soliciting  funds  to  take  her  to  Detroit  to 
carry  sanitary  supplies  to  colored  soldiers  there,  and  having 
asked  others  present,  at  length  applied  to  him.  "  No,  I 
won't  give  you  a  cent."  She  straightened  up  her  tall  form 
and  asked,  "  Who  be  you  ?  "    "  The  only  son  of  my  mother." 


SOJOrRNER   TRUTH.  151 

She  threw  up  her  hands  and  exclaimed,  "  Bless  the  Lord 
there  wan't  no  more  on  'em." 

Formerly  she  used  to  travel  around  on  her  lecturing  tours 
on  foot,  but  latterly  has  taken  the  cars.  Going  to  Kalamazoo 
to  lecture,  she  was  about  to  take  the  omnibus  at  the  depot  for 
Professor  Stone's,  where  she  had  arranged  to  stay,  when  the 
driver  stopped  her.  "  Don't  you  carry  passengers  ?  "  "  Not 
such  as  you."  "  Why  not  ?  I  '11  pay  you  as  well  as  any- 
body." "  Can't  carry  niggers."  Some  of  the  people  knew 
her,  and  said,  "  What  a  shame  to  treat  Sojourner  Truth  in 
that  way  !  "  "I  don't  want  to  ride,"  said  she,  "  because  I  'm 
Sojourner  Truth,  but  because  I  'm  a  decent  woman,  an'  am 
willing  to  pay  my  fare.  I  'm  clean  and  neat.  Ef  I  was 
white,  an'  ever  so  dirty  an'  greasy,  you  'd  let  me  ride."  A 
crowd  collected  as  she  talked,  and  were  held  there  by  her 
pithy  remarks. 

Some  of  the  negro-haters  told  her  to  go  away,  for  she  was 
obstructing  the  sidewalk.  "  I  don't  take  up  much  room. 
It 's  the  people  that  take  up  the  sidewalk.  Make  them  go 
away."  But  the  people  were  so  eager  to  hear  her  they  would 
not  go.  "  We  '11  make  you  go,"  said  the  aforementioned 
worthies.  "  I  should  like  to  know  how  ?  I  sha'n't  walk. 
You  won't  one  on  ye  touch  me  mor'  'n  ef  I  was  a  toad,  an' 
there  ain't  a  carriage  in  town  that  '11  let  me  ride."  They 
were  vanquished.  Tlie  affair  at  the  depot  advertised  her  and 
her  lecture,  to  which  she  had  a  large  attendance. 

A  similar  scene  occurred  at  the  depot  at  Cold  Water. 
•'  What 's  the  name  of  this  town  ?  "  she  asked.  "  Cold 
Water,"  was  the  reply.  "I'll  make  it  7io^ water  for  you 
'fore  I  leave."  She  finally  asked  if  there  was  any  team  that 
would  carry  her  up  to  the  town,  and  succeeded  in  chartering 
a  dray.  She  took  her  seat  on  her  trunk,  and  began  singing 
with  her  powerful  voice  the  John  Brown  song,  interspersing 
her  singing  with  addresses  to  the  crowd  that  followed  the 
dray.  "  I  ride  into  your  town  as  John  Brown  went  to  the 
gallows,  —  backwards  on  a  dray."  She  had  a  large  audience 
at  her  lecture  there  also. 


152  HOUSEHOLD   READING. 

When  she  was  about  starting  for  Washington,  where  she 
has  for  a  year  or  more  been  laboring  among  the  colored  peo- 
ple, she  was  advised  to  call  on  President  Lincoln  and  Secre- 
tary Chase,  and  that  perhaps  they  would  aid  her. 

"  0  yes,  I  've  thought  of  that." 

"  Well,  Sojourner,  what  are  you  going  to  say  to  President 
Lincoln  ?     Just  tell  us." 

She  straightened  herself  up,  made  a  genteel  courtesy,  and 
said  :  "  Mr.  Lincoln,  I  'm  happy  to  see  you,  and  give  you  my 
photograph.  It 's  black,  but  it 's  got  a  white  back  to  it.  I 
shall  be  glad  to  get  yours  with  a  greenback  to  it." 

She  was  once  prosecuted  under  the  "  black  laws  "  of  Lidi- 
ana,  but  managed  her  own  case  so  adroitly  that  the  prosecu- 
tion entirely  failed.  She  is,  undoubtedly,  one  of  the  great 
women  of  this  generation,  of  whom  the  next  generation  will 
be  eager  to  hear,  and  will  be  thankful  for  the  preservation  of 
these  fragments. 


PREVENTIVES   OF   INTEMPERANCE. 

E  would  endeavor  to  point  out  what  and  where  are  some 
of  the  chief  supplies  of  intemperance,  and  how  they  can 
be  cut  off.  Showing  men  the  effects  of  intemperance  will  not 
make  them  temperate,  but  we  must  go  to  the  soui'ces  of  the 
evil  and  shut  off  the  supplies. 

1.  The  enmity  and  disobedience  of  the  heart  to  God. 
This  is  sin  itself.  The  heart  of  all  immorality  is  the  want 
of  the  love  and  obedience  of  God.  He  who  is  not  the  servant 
of  God  is  the  servant  of  his  own  lusts.  Where  a  man  or  a 
community  is  without  the  living  presence  of  Christ,  there  the 
great  inspiring  life-power  of  morality  does  not  exist. 

"  Thou  bleeding  Lamb  !  the  true  morality  is  love  of  thee." 

Where  morality  is  not  rooted  in  the  love  of  God,  it  has  no 

real  life.     A  true  Christian  can  no  more  be  an  intemperate 


PREVENTIVES  OF  INTEMPERANCE.  153 

man  than  he  can  be  a  profane  man,  or  an  impure  man.  The 
meaning  of  the  word  "  temperance  "  in  the  New  Testament 
is  "  self-control,"  or  the  bringing  of  the  whole  sinful  self  into 
the  moderation  of  Christian  obedience  and  the  righteous 
bounds  of  God.  The  spiritual  strength  to  do  this  comes  from 
Christ.  This  is  the  victory  that  overcometh  the  world  and 
all  its  lusts,  —  even  our  faith.  The  only  way,  therefore,  of 
effectually  meeting  and  cutting  off  the  deepest  source  of  sup- 
ply of  all  immorality,  intemperance  included,  is  by  bringing 
the  love  of  God  into  the  heart  of  a  man  or  a  community,  — 
it  is  by  the  advancement  of  pure  religion,  leading  to  a  higher 
life,  and  shutting  up  by  an  invisible  hand  the  sources  which 
supply  immorality  and  intemperance  with  their  means  of 
existence. 

2.  A  culpable  and  vicious  poverty.  I  use  these  strong 
terms  to  distinguish  the  kind  of  poverty  that  I  mean  from  q, 
virtuous  and  innocent  poverty,  one  brought  on  through 
calamity,  and  in  spite  of  an  honest  effort  against  it.  Such 
a  poverty  no  one  respects  more  than  myself;  it  is  often  the 
proof  of  a  man's  honesty  and  nobleness  of  character  in  these 
days  when  there  is  such  haste  to  get  rich.  There  is  also 
much  poverty  that  arises  from  mixed  and  hidden  causes,  from 
constitutional  want  of  energy,  from  a  mingling  of  misfortune 
and  human  infirmity,  that  is  not  to  be  judged  too  harshly,  but 
is  rather  to  be  commiserated  and  helped.  But  there  is  a 
poverty  which  is  the  result  of  sheer  vice,  and  chiefly  the  vice 
of  idleness ;  and  this  is  an  exhaustless  sovirce  of  intemper- 
ance. Ask  the  city  missionary  where  the  most  obstinate, 
deep-rooted,  and  habitual  intemperance  will  be  found,  —  will 
he  not  tell  you  that  it  is  in  the  crowded  dwellings,  not  of  the 
virtuous,  but  of  the  vicious  and  idle  poor,  of  those  who  will 
not  work  to  provide  for  themselves  an  honest  subsistence,  but 
only  enough  perhaps  to  supply  the  means  of  gratifying  their 
appetite  for  intoxicating  drink.  This  is  the  intemperate  stra- 
tum in  the  community ;  not  but  that  it  frequently  crops  out 
higher  up  into  the  circle  of  the  rich,  but  here,  all  will  allow. 


154  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

is  the  home,  the  central  and  perpetual  stronghold,  of  this  vice. 
This  is  the  great  "  dismal  swamp  "  in  whose  tangled,  inacces- 
sible, and  loathsome  recesses  this  slimy  monster  of  intemper- 
ance makes  his  safe  retreat.  Whatever,  therefore,  serves  to 
clear  up  this  gloomy  and  barren  swamp  of  vicious  poverty, 
whatever  lets  the  sunlight  and  activities  of  the  blessed  Gospel 
into  it,  and  whatever  plants  it  with  the  seeds  of  virtue  and 
education,  reduces  the  domain  of  intemperance. 

Efforts  to  evangelize  neglected  communities,  and  to  reclaim 
the  children  of  the  vicious  and  degraded  class  among  the 
poor,  serve  to  dry  up  the  sources  of  this  pestilence  that  walk- 
eth  in  darkness.  Street  boys  and  girls  who  seem  to  have  no 
settled  home,  the  number  of  whom  is  increasing  in  all  our 
large  cities,  who  are  without  one  good  influence  over  them, 
whose  evil  passions  are  early  developed,  and  who  are  already 
themselves  adepts  in  intemperance  and  every  vice,  these 
should  be  looked  after,  brought  into  clean  and  comfortable 
homes,  and,  above  all,  provided  with  honest  employment. 
Give  the  poor  work  to  do,  build  up  in  them  a  sense  of  manli- 
ness and  moral  dignity,  instruct  their  children,  and  awaken 
in  them  the  hope  of  social  progress  and  advancement,  and 
you  head  off  intemperance  more  effectually  than  in  any  other 
way.  In  this  connection  I  would  quote  the  sensible  words  of 
a  Catholic  archbishop  recently  deceased  :  — 

"  The  idleness  of  boys  when  they  leave  school,  —  an  idle- 
ness which  is  often  not  wilful,  but  compulsory,  —  idle  because 
unable  to  find  anything  to  do,  — we  regard  as  one  of  the  most 
fruitful  sources  of  vice,  and  one  of  the  greatest  evils  of  soci- 
ety. It  is  such  an  evil  that  we  look  on  the  military  despot- 
isms of  Europe,  which  take  young  men  from  their  families  or 
the  streets  for  a  term  of  years,  and  compel  them  to  serve  in 
the  army,  as  a  comparative  blessing.  In  the  service,  they 
acquire  habits  of  obedience  to  superiors,  cleanliness,  regu- 
larity, and  order.  In  our  large  cities  hundreds  of  boys  and 
young  men  are  wasting  energies  which  they  are  anxious  to 
devote  to  the  conquest  of  a  respectable  position  in  society, 


PREVENTIVES  OF  INTEMPERANCE.  155 

and  therefore  to  the  public  good ;  but  they  know  not  what  to 
do,  —  they  are  idle  '  because  no  man  hath  hired  them.'  " 

3.  The  want  of  a  proper  system  of  physical  training  for 
the  young.  From  the  ranks  of  the  young  the  strength  of  in- 
temperance is  being  continually  augmented  ;  and  it  is  gener- 
ally from  those  who  are  physically  predisposed  to  this  vice. 
It  is  tlie  morbid  and  torpid  body  in  which  the  currents  of  life 
run  slow,  in  which  the  exhausted  nerves  crave  excitement, 
that  naturally  seeks  the  stimulus  of  intoxicating  drink.  The 
healthful  body,  with  its  own  exhilarating  springs  of  life  and 
happiness,  does  not  require  the  stimulus  of  liquor,  nor  crave 
it.  An  in-door  and  unmanly  life  among  the  young  predis- 
poses to  the  unhealthy  enticements  of  the  drinking-saloon. 
Our  very  schools  may  smooth  the  way  for  future  intemper- 
ance, in  their  undue  development  of  the  intellect  to  the  total 
neglect  of  physical  culture.  Restless  minds  in  weak  bodies 
are  just  the  victims  of  artificial  excitement.  When  drains 
begin  to  be  made  upon  the  strength  in  professional  labor,  and 
in  the  cares  of  business  life,  then  these  weakened,  yet  intel- 
lectual and  ambitious  graduates  of  our  high  schools  and  col- 
leges, turn  to  the  false  strength  of  inspiring  drink.  Our 
children  and  youth  do  not  take  exercise  enough  in  the  open 
air.  They  do  not  train  the  muscle  by  hard  work  or  athletic 
games,  although  there  is  an  improvement  in  this  respect. 
The  youth  prefers  to  crouch  over  some  trashy,  heated  story 
in  the  comfortable  room  at  home.  Growing  up  with  un- 
necessary wants,  artificial  appetites,  weakened  digestion,  and 
inflamed  desires,  when  brought  in  contact  with  actual  temp- 
tation, he  readily  falls  into  it.  A  good  gymnasium  attached 
to  every  school-house  is  of  more  importance  than  an  im- 
proved grammar  or  the  hundredth  new  arithmetic. 

4.  The  want  of  intellectual  and  social  amusements  among 
the  young,  of  an  innocent,  healthy,  and  ennobling  character. 
When  we  attempt,  even  in  reform,  to  run  in  advance  of  the 
laws  of  the  mind,  we  leave  enemies  behind  us  that  will  start 
up  and  defeat  our  best-laid  plans.     Temperance  is  a  severe 


156  HOUSEHOLD  EEADING. 

virtue,  aiid  we  must  take  care  not  to  make  it  a  false  virtue, 
crushing  out  and  trampling  upon  the  very  laws  and  instincts 
of  our  nature.  If  you  take  away  the  supply  of  a  constitu- 
tional want,  and  do  not  substitute  nourishment  for  it  of 
another  kind,  you  fail  in  your  reform,  and  the  starving 
nature  returns  with  tenfold  energy  to  its  former  indulgence. 
There  is  a  strong  desire  in  youthful  human  nature  for  some 
kind  of  pleasurable  excitement,  for  amusement,  for  play,  for 
enjoyment.  If  this  desire  be  not  met  and  satisfied  in  ways 
that  God  designed  it  should  be,  it  will  satisfy  itself  in  lower 
and  depraved  methods.  You  cannot  tell  young  men  to  sit 
still  and  never  commit  the  sin  of  enjoying  themselves.  They 
w^ill  seek  enjoyment  in  the  society  of  others.  We  have  social 
instincts,  longings,  and  sympathies  which  must  be  regarded. 
If  young  men  have  nowhere  else  to  go  for  social  pleasure, 
they  are  often  drawn  to 'resort  to  the  billiard-room  and  the 
drinking-saloon.  If  they  do  not  have  a  virtuous  and  refined 
society,  they  are  too  apt  to  seek  degrading  associations,  — 
they  meet  the  deep  want  of  their  nature  by  soul-depraving 
friendships.  It  is  for  those  who  would  guard  youth  from 
vicious  associations  and  intemperance  to  see  that  they  have 
opportunities  afforded  them  of  reasonable  and  innocent  en- 
joyment, of  virtuous  and  pleasant  social  relations.  Parents 
should  make  their  homes  pleasant  and  cheerful.  There 
should  be  an  abundance  of  interesting  books  in  the  house. 
Such  attractive  works  of  art  as  can  be  afforded  should  orna- 
ment the  walls  and  tables.  A  piano  is  often  a  less  extrava- 
gant and  unjustifiable  piece  of  luxury  than  the  gaudy  carpet 
or  expensive  upholstery.  There  is  something  wrong  in  not 
providing  the  young  mind  with  sufficient  intellectual  nutri- 
ment, and  that  of  an  enjoyable  kind.  Parents  who  wish 
their  sons,  employers  who  wish  their  clerks,  not  to  stand 
about  at  the  corners  of  the  streets,  not  to  be  seen  at  the 
theatre,  the  ball,  or  the  drinking  club-room,  must  provide 
for  them  happy  homes,  where,  with  the  manly  history,  the 
fascinating   book  of  travels,   the   stimulating   biography   to 


prew:ntives  of  intemperance.  157 

read,  the  pleasant  faces  of  the  young  of  both  sexes  to 
brighten  the  circle,  and  music  to  harmonize  and  raise  the 
spirits,  no  want  is  felt,  no  yearning  for  artificial  and  cor- 
rupting pleasures.  I  am  not  for  making  a  Sahara  of  young 
souls,  for  drying  up  all  the  springs  of  rational  enjoyment 
witliin  them. 

5.  Living  such  intense  lives.  This  is  the  American  way. 
There  is  too  little  of  repose  and  of  calm  and  steady  strength 
in  our  life.  We  go  on  at  top  speed  in  everything.  In  busi- 
ness we  wear  ourselves  out  before  we  reach  middle  life.  If 
we  try  even  to  be  happy,  it  is  in  a  kind  of  wild,  extravagant, 
and  soul-wasting  way,  fi.nding  poor  pleasure  in  the  most 
highly  wrought  pursuits  and  excitements.  The  nervous 
system  is  unstrung,  the  craving  for  excitement  grows  by 
what  it  feeds  upon,  the  degree  of  excitement  is  becoming 
more  and  more  intense,  simple  and  innocent  things  satisfy 
less  and  less,  and  here  is  the  field  where  intemperance  finds 
its  hosts  of  ready  victims  from  all  walks  and  stations  of  life. 
Now,  after  the  truly  high  and  glorious  excitement  of  the  war 
has  subsided,  let  there  come  a  peaceful  repose  over  our  rest- 
less American  nature.  Let  there  be  no  less  noble  activity, 
but  less  intense  and  wearing  excitement.  A  deeper  confi- 
dence in  God  should  be  cultivated.  We  should  strive  to  lead 
a  simpler  life.  We  have  everything  to  make  us  good,  great, 
and  happy,  if  we  will  but  see  it  and  enjoy  it  with  an  humble 
mind,  and  a  true,  loving,  unselfish  heart. 


158  HOUSEHOLD  EEADING. 


THE  MINISTRY  OF  THE  DEPARTED. 

"  Are  they  not  all  ministering  spirits  ?  "  —  Heb.  i.  14. 


w 


HO  shall  say  how  close  the  mortal 
Borders  on  the  vast  unseen  ? 
"Who  shall  say  it  is  but  seeming, 
But  a  vain  and  idle  dreaming, 
That  we  catch,  sometimes,  a  gleaming, 
From  beyond  the  mystic  portal,  — 
From  behind  Death's  shadowy  screen  ? 

Dwellers  in  that  land  of  beauty. 
Once  they  trod  the  shores  of  Time ; 
Wept  they  then  in  tribulation, 
"Wrestled  they  with  strong  temptation, 
Patient,  through  their  brief  probation, 
"Wrought  the  high  commands  of  duty, 
Earned  their  destiny  sublime. 

Passed  with  them  a  cheering  lustre 
From  our  daily  paths  away ; 
Yet  unto  our  spirit  vision 
Come  they  on  a  holy  mission. 
Come  they  from  the  fields  Elysian, 
"Where  the  flowers  unfading  cluster, 
"Where  the  living  waters  play. 

O'er  the  hills  of  life  returning, 

Messages  of  love  they  bear ; 

On  their  light  wings  downward  bringing 

Echoes  of  the  angels'  singing. 

While  our  spirits,  glad  upspringing. 

Hush  their  wild  and  wayward  yearning, 

Still  their  vague  and  voiceless  prayer. 


THE   MINISTRY    OF   THE   DEPARTED.  169 

Fiercely  break  the  clouds  of  sorrow, 
Life,  upon  thy  midnight  sea  ! 
Lo  !  the  beacon  hope  is  paling, 
And  our  feeble  faith  is  failing. 
And  our  souls  in  fear  are  quaih'ng 
From  the  dread  uncertain  morrow,  —  • 

Morrow  we  may  never  see- 
Unseen  ones,  in  whispers  cheering, 
Bid  us  struggle  on  and  wait ; 
Still  to  them  our  spirits  turning, 
With  a  deep,  unuttered  yeai-ning. 
Seeking  much  and  naught  discerning, 
Dimly  tlirough  the  future  peering,— 
Open  they  the  mystic  gate  ! 

Here,  say  they,  we  rest  from  labor, 
Toil  and  conflict,  all  are  past : 
Here  no  darkness  cometh  ever. 
For  the  Lamb  is  light  forever  ; 
Faint  not  in  the  strife,  nor  waver; 
Spirit,  thou  shalt  rest  at  last ! 

Land  of  glory  !  land  of  wonder  ! 
Shining  in  immortal  bloom  ! 
Press  we  on  with  firm  endeavor, 
Hoping  always,  doubting  never. 
Naught  from  us  that  vision  sever, 
Till  we,  joyful,  journey  yonder. 
Through  the  portals  of  the  tomb ! 


160  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 


WILLING. 


YOU  believe  that  you  can  be  saved  only  through  Christ. 
You  wish  to  become  a  Christian ;  but  could  not  Jesus  say 
of  you,  "  Yc  ivill  not  come  unto  me  that  ye  miglit  have  life  "  ? 
Are  you  sure  that  you  are  willing  to  take  him  for  your  Mas- 
ter? Have  you  any  doubt  what  he  means  when  he  says, 
"  Whosoever  ivill,  let  him  take  the  water  of  life  freely  "  ? 

A  little  child  refuses  to  pronounce  a  given  word  in  a  lesson, 
declaring  that  he  cannot.  The  father  knows  that  he  can.  He 
has  overheard  him  read  it  correctly  again  and  again,  and  ho 
insists  that  it  mast  be  pronounced  without  assistance.  The 
child  is  obstinate  and  will  not.  Then  comes  a  prolonged 
struggle  and  repeated  and  severe  punishment.  The  child 
simply  wants  his  own  way.  If  the  father  yields,  parental  au- 
thority is  destroyed.  The  battle  goes  on  far  beyond  its  imag- 
ined possibilities,  and  the  deepest  fountains  of  the  father's 
soul  are  stirred.  To  yield  is  fatal.  What  can  he  do  ?  Fi- 
nally, the  child  breaks  down  and  is  willing  to  pronounce  the 
word ;  is  willing  to  do  anything.  The  father's  heart  had 
yearned  over  him,  and  the  instant  he  said,  "Yes,  I  can  ;  I  will 
do  it,"  there  was  reconciliation,  though  the  child  m.ust  actu- 
ally pronounce  the  word  as  a  voucher  for  his  sincerity.  He 
is  not  forgiven,  however,  because  he  does  this,  but  because  ^le 
is  willing  to  do  it ;  because  his  attitude  toward  his  father  is 
entirely  changed  from  resistance  to  submission.  Until  he 
took  this  position,  and  was  heartily  willing  humbly  to  ac- 
knowledge the  authority  of  his  father  and  obey  him  in  the  one 
thins:  then  at  issue,  no  other  act  of  obedience  or  kindness 
could  restore  him  to  his  former  place  in  the  father's  heart. 

Thus  comes  reconciliation  with  God.  It  comes  the  moment 
you  are  willing,  —  willing  to  say,  "  Father,  I  have  sinned 
against  heaven  and  before  thee,  and  am  no  more  worthy  to  be 
called  thy  son ;  make  me  as  one  of  thy  hired  servants."    God 


WHAT   ARE   YOU   THINKIXG   ABOUT?  161 

knows  the  whole  heart,  and  just  when  it  takes  that  attitude 
and  disposition  toward  him,  tlien  shall  you  be  forgiven  and 
justified.  Not  that  you  become  just,  for  God  himself  cannot 
make  the  wrong  of  your  past  life  right,  though  he  can  and 
does  consent  to  treat  you  in  the  great  day  of  accounts  as  if 
you  were  just  and  your  soul  had  never  been  tainted  witli 
sin. 

Are  you,  then,  ivilling  to  be  saved  ? 


WHAT   ARE  YOU  THINKING  ABOUT? 

WHAT  are  you  thinking  about,  little  girl,  as  you  walk 
along  to  school  so  slowly  under  the  shade  of  the  apple- 
trees  ?  The  shadows  move  on  the  ground  as  if  they  were 
alive  ;  and  the  robins  hop  about  over  them  singing  as  they  go, 
as  lively  and  happy  as  they  can  be. 

Are  you  thinking  about  the  sunshine,  the  shadows,  and  the 
birds  ?  Well,  they  are  pleasant  things  to  think  of ;  but  it  can- 
not be  that  they  make  you  frown  so,  for  in  these  bright  June 
mornings  everything  out  of  doors  is  cheerful. 

No,  something  else  is  in  your  mind  now.  Some  of  your 
playmates  have  vexed  you,  or  your  mother  would  not  let  you 
have  your  own  way,  or  your  lesson  is  not  learned,  and  you 
are  blaming  the  teacher,  perhaps,  because  it  is  so  hard.  Take 
care,  little  girl,  take  care  what  you  think  about ! 

"  Why  ?  "  you  ask  ;  "  does  it  make  any  difference  what  my 
thoughts  are  ?  If  I  do  not  speak  them,  they  will  not  hurt 
anybody." 

Yes,  it  makes  a  great  difference ;  because  your  thoughts 
are  part  of  yourself,  and  if  they  are  unkind  or  cruel,  or 
wicked  in  any  way,  you  will  be  hurt,  if  no  one  else  should 
be. 

Perhaps  you  have  not  found  out  yet  that  a  thought  which 
11 


162  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

is  allowed  to  grow  always  gets  said  in  some  vray,  either  by 
words  or  action.  You  know  the  proverb,  "  Actions  speak 
louder  than  words." 

Why,  I  could  tell,  as  I  walked  behind  you,  bj  the  way  your 
shoulders  moved  and  your  feet  came  down  upon  the  ground, 
tliat  you  were  not  thinking  of  anything  pleasant.  Your 
tongue  was  still,  but  you  were  talking  all  over. 

What  are  you  thinking  about  ?  Do  you  ever  ask  yourself 
the  question  ? 

That  person,  "yourself,"  your  most  intimate  companion, 
whose  society  you  can  never  get  rid  of,  is  thinking  all  the  time 
about  something  that  concerns  you.  If  you  are  not  careful, 
you  will  grow  up  a  stranger  to  yourself.  Many  people,  for 
want  of  asking  themselves  this  question  frequently,  have  lived 
with  a  thief,  a  deceiver,  or  a  liar  in  their  bosom  for  years,  and 
have  not  known  anything  about  it. 

Be  sure  to  become  well  acquainted  with  yourself,  and  tiiat 
you  may  do  so,  often  ask  yourself  what  you  are  thinking 
about,  —  what  you  love  to  think  about. 

And  do  not  allow  yourself  to  think  about  any  but  pure  and 
good  and  right  things. 

Eemember  that  these  thoughts  which  seem  so  small  now 
are  the  drops  that  will  form  the  rivers  of  your  words  and  ac- 
tions. If  you  let  muddy  water  into  your  heart,  they  will 
flow  out  through  your  lips,  soiling  everything  they  touch, 
and  all  pure  people  will  keep  away  from  the  polluting  stream. 

But  if  you  cherish  loving  and  holy  thoughts,  your  life  will 
be  like  a  crystal  stream,  which  the  good  will  love  to  look  at, 
and  to  which  they  will  come  with  love  to  drink  and  be  re- 
freshed. 

See  to  it,  little  girl,  that  you  know  what  you  are  thinking 
about,  and  say  often  to  yourself,  "  Keep  thy  heart  with  all 
diligence,  for  out  of  it  are  the  issues  of  life." 


TEE   BEWITCHED   GUN.  163 


THE    BEWITCHED    GUN. 

THE  man's  name  was  Tucker. 
And  he  was  a  miserable  sort  of  a  fellow,  who  cared  for 
nothing  but  hunting  bees  and  woodchucks.  He  could  not 
have  been  really  lazy,  for  one  need  ask  no  harder  work  than 
tramping  all  day  through  swamps  and  thickets,  up  hill  and 
down,  across  brooks  and  ditches,  in  all  kinds  of  weather. 

However,  he  was  certainly  idle.  And  he  had  holes  in  his 
elbows,  and  a  cap  which  looked  like  a  mouse's  nest.  His 
wife  was  much  the  same  way,  so  you  may  guess  how  the 
house  looked  ;  not  much  of  a  house  either,  only  one  room 
and  a  loft,  which  you  climbed  up  to  by  a  ladder.  And  of 
course  the  children  had  mud  and  molasses  on  their  faces, 
snarls  of  hair  over  their  eyes,  and  looked,  each  one,  as  their 
father  did,  like  a  walking  rag-bag. 

They  had  something  which  they  called  a  garden,  but  there 
were  more  weeds  than  potatoes  in  it ;  and  in  fact  there  was 
not  much  of  anything  hut  weeds  and  onions  there.  They 
had  a  pig,  which  used  to  run  in  the  woods  and  eat  acorns. 
And  of  course  they  kept  a  dog  ;  indeed,  they  kept  tivo. 

You  know  some  such  shiftless  man,  I  dare  say  ;  but  perhaps 
he  is  not,  as  Mr.  Tucker  was,  a  believer  in  magic  and  the  black 
art ;  because  the  Tucker  family  lived  away  back  in  the  times 
when  people  used  to  put  a  leaf  of  a  Bible  in  the  churn,  and 
nail  a  horseshoe  over  the  door,  to  frighten  off  witches  and 
break  their  power  ;  and  when  they  used  to  think  old  women 
who  owned  black  cats  sometimes  rode  out  of  a  night  upon  a 
broomstick  instead  of  ,a  horse. 

Nevertheless,  I  should  not  wonder,  although  your  loafer 
does  live  in  more  sensible  days,  if  he  turned  to  be  a  believer 
in  witchcraft  if  his  gun  should  behave  as  Mr.  Tucker's  did 
once  on  a  time.    Indocd,  I  suspect  you  and  I  would  ourselves 


164  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

have  been  at  least  a  little  startled.  Listen,  and  I  will  tell 
you  how  it  was. 

One  day,  in  the  very  height  of  the  woodchuck  season,  Mr. 
Tucker  was  coming  home  an  hour  or  so  before  sunset  by  way 
of  a  tavern,  which  was  a  mile  through  the  woods  from  his 
cabin.  This  tavern,  being  upon  the  high-road  to  Boston,  and 
not  more  than  a  hundred  miles  out,  was  a  place  of  rest  and 
refreshment  for  farmers  from  farther  inland  going  to  the  city 
with  pigs,  and  poultry,  and  grain,  and  returning  home  with 
their  yearly  supply  of  sugar,  and  tea,  and  salted  fish.  A 
long  ways  to  go  marketing,  one  would  say  ;  but  that  is  just 
as  people  are  accustomed,  and  quite  likely  those  who  have 
the  shortest  distance  to  go  make  the  most  fuss  about  it. 

At  this  early  hour,  the  teamsters,  naturally  wishing  to 
make  as  long  a  day  as  possible,  had  not  begun  to  come  in  for 
the  night ;  so  there  were  about  the  tavern  only  a  few  worth- 
less lazy-bones  lounging  upon  the  stoop  with  their  pipes  and 
mugs  of  cider,  and  several  idle  boys  who  were  in  waiting  for 
the  the  mischief  Satan  finds  for  idle  hands  to  do. 

Tucker  was  in  cheerful  spirits,  for  he  had  had  a  good  day. 
That  is,  he  had  got  three  fair  shots  at  a  woodchuck  before  the 
poor,  frightened  creature  could  escape  unto  its  hole  ;  he  had 
killed  a  golden  robin  on  the  wing,  and  very  nearly  spotted  a 
bee-tree  with  nobody  knew  how  much  honey  in  it.  A  pretty 
chase  the  bees  had  given  him,  too.  Therefore  he  had  reason 
to  be,  as  he  said  he  was,  tired  as  a  man  mowing,  and  entirely 
ready  to  take  a  pipe  and  a  mug  of  cider  with  the  rest.  And 
being  once  seated  upon  the  wooden  steps,  he  was  in  no  hurry 
to  go  again. 

Poor  man  !  He  knew  nothing  about  that  saying  of  Emer- 
son, which  has  started  me  up  and  oflF  so  many  times,  "  Never 
lose  an  opportunity  for  action  for  the  sake  of  your  nerves  or 
your  nap."  No,  indeed.  His  motto  ran  right  the  other  way. 
Never  lose  an  opportunity  for  idleness  upon  any  account 
whatsoever. 

So  he  sat  puffing  and  sipping  until  the  sun  had  gone  quite 


THE   BEWITCHED   GUN.  165 

down  ;  then  taking  his  gun  from  its  leaning-place  against  the 
house,  he  sauntered  away.  As  he  arose  to  go,  there  was  a 
stifled  snickering  and  skurrying  of  bare  feet  pattering  around 
the  corner,  sounding  like  the  rustling  of  a  whirlwind  among 
a  heap  of  withered  leaves.  But  that  was  nothing  to  notice, 
for  hoys  are  always  skurrying  and  pattering  and  snickering. 
However,  before  Tucker  was  well  across  the  patch  of  corn- 
land,  whicli  crept  in  between  the  tavern  and  woods,  some- 
thing startled  him  which  was  worth  noticing.  His  gun  flashed 
off"  unexpectedly. 

"  Sho  !  I  had  no  idee  she  was  loaded.  Well,  it  is  grand 
good  luck  she  wa'n't  aimed  toivard  nobody,"  quoth  he  aloud. 

There  was  a  giggle  behind  him,  —  or  else  the  wind  rustling 
among  the  corn-leaves.  Either,  be  it  which  it  might,  Tucker 
did  not  heed,  —  only  shifted  his  gun  on  to  the  other  shoulder, 
and  shuffled  on  into  the  twilight  of  the  forest  beyond. 

He  had  not  gone  many  paces  when  there  was  another  dis- 
charge of  his  gun,  and  this  time  he  was  more  than  startled ; 
he  was  fairly  astonished.  However,  he  went  on  ;  but  only  to 
hear  another  and  another  discharge,  coming  after  a  pause  of 
only  a  few  minutes.  Bewildered  and  frightened,  but  still  hold- 
ing on  to  his  gun,  the  poor  fellow  reached  his  cabin  at  last. 

"  Crmh!  "  went  the  gun  as  he  came  to  the  door. 

Slinging  it  into  a  corner,  he  flung  himself  on  a  bench.  "  I 
would  n't  touch  that  gun  again  for  no  money  you  might  offer 
me.  Patience."  (A  safe  enough  promise,  by  the  way.)  "  It 
has  been  popping  off"  and  popping  off",  once  in  half  a  dozen 
rods,  all  the  way  from  Meigs's,  and  it 's  my  opinion  the  ma^ 
chine  is  bewitched,"  he  said,  solemnly. 

Patience  was  stirring  up  a  hoe-cake  for  supper,  and  came 
forward,  a  slatternly  figure  of  a  woman,  with  a  wooden  bowl 
in  one  hand  and  a  spoon  in  the  other,  saying,  "  Why,  man 
alive,  how  you  do  talk  !     You  don't  say  !  " 

Nevertheless,  he  not  only  did  say,  but  the  gun  said  also, 
speaking  for  itself  just  then  with  an  instant  flash  and  bang 
and  puff  of  smoke. 


166  HOUSEHOLD   READING. 

Then  such  a  terror  and  a  screaming  from  mother  and  chil- 
dren. The  gun  couhl  not  have  looked  more  frightful  if  it 
had  suddenly  taken  on  hoofs  and  put  forth  horns,  for  all  it 
stood  there  apparently  as  innocent  and  quiet  as  any  piece  of 
old  iron. 

"  Mercy  on  us  !  It  is  bewitched  as  true  as  preaching ! 
Mercy!  Mercy  !  You  don't' go  for  to  leave  the  thing  there 
killing  us  all,  I  hope  to  goodness,  Dan  ?  "  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Tucker,  dropping  her  bowl  and  spilling  the  batter  on  the 
head  of  her  youngest. 

"  Oil  !  oh  !  it  is  bewitched  !  it  is  bewitched  !  It  is  killing 
us  all,"  chimed  in  the  young  Tuckers  in  ready  chorus. 

^^ Crash!  "  assented  the  gun  from  its  co-rner. 

Then  Mr.  Tucker,  with  the  air  and  feeling  of  one  handling 
a  rattlesnake,  or  a  mad  dog,  took  up  the  gun,  and  rushing 
out  of  doors,  dashed  it  into  the  well. 

^^Bang!^'  called  back  the  gun  in  farewell.  Again  there  was 
a  skurrying  of  bare  feet ;  and  out  in  the  woods,  beyond  hear- 
ing of  the  cabin,  there  was  directly  an  answering  scream  of 
laughing  on  the  part  of  the  owners  of  the  bare  feet.  For, 
what  do  you  think  ?  The  graceless  wretches  had  filled  Tuck- 
er's gun  with  first  a  charge  of  powder,  then  a  bit  of  dry  rot- 
ten wood,  and  so  on  to  the  very  muzzle.  Then  they  managed 
to  light  the  outer  bit  of  wood  as  Tucker  was  preparing  to 
start  for  home  ;  and  burning  on  slowly,  the  fire  came  soon  to 
the  first  charge  of  powder,  which,  in  exploding,  lighted  the 
next  bit  of  wood.  Thus  the  gun  had  gone  on,  firing  itself 
off  at  intervals,  until  the  fire  was  quenched  in  the  water  of 
the  well. 

This  was  the  explanation,  simple  enough  you  see,  of  the 
bewitchment  of  Tucker's  gun  ;  and,  be  assured,  all  stories  of 
mystery  and  magic  might  be  as  easily  accounted  for,  if  we 
only  knew  the  whole  as  well. 

Ugh  !  But  I  am  thankful  we  do  not  live  in  those  uncanny 
days  of  belief  in  witchcraft ;  when  one  must  be  always  look- 
ing out  for  the  wiles  of  a  secret  enemy,  if  one  so  much  as 


THOMAS   SCOTT,   THE    COMMENTATOR.  167 

scratched  a  finger.  We  have  evil  influences  enough  in  our 
time  in  all  reason,  without  having  to  consider  whenever  any- 
thing goes  wrong,  that  there  is  some  spell  about  it  which 
cannot  be  broken  by  good  common  sense  and  a  good  strong 
will. 


THOMAS    SCOTT,    THE    COMMENTATOR. 

THERE  are  few  men  whose  names  are  more  familiar  to 
the  Christian  households  of  this  country  and  of  Eng- 
land than  the  name  of  Scott.  In  both  countries,  his  Com- 
mentary on  the  Bible  has  obtained  a  wide  circulation,  and 
has  contributed  to  the  religious  instruction  and  education  of 
multitudes  of  families.  This  Commentary,  though  not  dis- 
tinguished for  critical  learning,  is  remarkable  for  its  plain, 
practical  sense,  its  eminently  evangelical  tone,  and  its  fitness 
to  meet  the  spiritual  wants  of  common  Christians. 

Like  many  others,  who  have  filled  very  important  places 
in  the  Church  of  Christ,  Scott,  in  his  early  life,  gave  little 
promise  of  being  what  he  afterwards  became.  He  was  born 
in  Braytoft,  in  Lincolnshire,  in  the  year  1747.  His  father 
was  a  small  farmer,  whose  principal  business  consisted  in  the 
raising  of  cattle  and  sheep.  After  obtaining  the  simple  rudi- 
ments of  an  education  at  home,  under  the  tuition  of  his 
mother,  he  was,  from  the  age  of  seven  to  fifteen,  kept  away, 
a  considerable  portion  of  the  time,  at  school.  Here,  though 
he  did  not  especially  distinguish  himself  as  a  scholar,  he 
made  very  respectable  attainments.  But  from  the  record 
which  he  afterward  made  of  his  life,  it  would  appear  that 
these  years  were  filled  with  much  folly  and  mischief,  not  to 
say  wickedness.  At  the  close  of  this  period,  it  was  seriously 
debated  in  his  father's  family  whether  he  should  still  go  on 
with  his  studies,  and  receive  a  liberal  education,  or  wliether 
he  should  serve  an  apprenticeship  with  an  apothecary.     The 


168  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

latter  course  was  at  length  decided  upon,  contrary  to  his  own 
wishes,  and  he  was  entered  as  an  apprentice  at  an  establish- 
ment in  a  neighboring  village.  During  this  period  of  his 
life,  he  was  not  without  serious  thoughts  upon  the  subject  of 
his  soul's  salvation,  but  his  course  was,  on  the  whole,  decid- 
edly irreligious.  He  had  served  in  his  apprenticeship  only 
two  months,  when  some  conduct  of  his  gave  great  offence  to 
his  master,  and  he  was  sent  home  in  disgrace.  His  father,  a 
man  of  integrity,  but  of  high  spirit,  and  naturally  inclined  to 
be  severe,  having  been  thus  balked  in  his  plans  respecting  his 
son,  resolved  to  keep  him  at  home,  and  to  employ  him  in  the 
most  menial  services  connected  with  his  business  as  a  grazier. 
Here  Scott  continued  for  nine  years,  regarded  and  treated 
less  as  a  son  than  a  servant.  There  was  something  alto- 
gether harsh  and  unnatural  in  the  course  which  his  father 
now  pursued  toward  him.  He  refused  him  that  confidence 
which  fathers  usually  delight  to  repose  in  their  children. 
He  discouraged  all  his  attempts  to  improve  himself  by  read- 
ing during  the  long  winter  evenings.  "  He  considered," 
says  Scott,  "  my  attachment  to  books,  even  when  shown  only 
in  my  leisure  hours,  as  wholly  inconsistent  with  diligence  in 

my   business For  above   nine   years  I  was   nearly   as 

entire  a  drudge  as  any  servant  or  laborer  in  his  employ,  and 
almost  as  little  known  beyond  the  circle  of  immediate  neigh- 
bors  My  situation   led   me  to  associate  with  persons 

in  the  lowest  station  in  life,  and  wholly  destitute  of  religious 

principle The  discontent  which  corroded  my  mind 

during  several  of  these  years  surpasses  description ;  and  it 
soured  my  temper  beyond  its  natural  harshness,  thus  render 
ing  me  a  great  temptation  as  well  as  trial  to  my  father  and 
those  around  me,  to  whom  I  generally  behaved  very  disre- 
spectfully, not  to  say  insolently." 

The  strangest  circumstance  connected  with  his  history  is, 
that  in  the  very  midst  of  such  a  life  as  this,  already  oon- 
tinued  for  more  than  nine  years,  he  should  come  to  the 
settled  resolution  to  take  orders  and  enter  the  Church  ;  and 


THOMAS    SCOTT,    THE   COMMENTATOR.  169 

this,  too,  without  any  new  religious  experience,  or  aught 
whicli  indicated  any  particular  change  in  his  character. 
Nor  does  it  abate  our  wonder,  when  we  consider  the  motive 
which  prompted  him  to  take  this  step.  He  had  accidentally 
made  the  discovery,  that  his  father  intended  to  cut  him  off 
from  almost  all  interest  in  his  estate,  in  favor  of  a  brother 
who  was  living  away  from  home.  He  resolved  that  he  would 
drudge  about  the  homestead  no  longer.  Accordingly,  he 
brushed  up  his  Greek  and  Latin,  made  application  to  a 
neighboring  clergyman  for  advice  and  assistance  in  his  pro- 
posed plan,  and,  at  Icngtli,  not  without  considerable  trouble 
and  delay,  entered  the  church.  He  was  soon  accommodated 
with  a  place  in  which  to  labor,  and  he  set  to  work  with  great 
diligence. 

Later  in  life,  when  he  possessed  that  true  religious  experi- 
ence, to  which  he  was  now  an  utter  stranger,  he  was  accus- 
tomed to  ^ook  back  upon  these  events  with  great  self- 
reproach  and  bitter  repentings.  But  it  seems  hardly  to  have 
occurred  to  those  who  were  concerned  in  introducing  him 
to  this  sacred  office  that  his  want  of  practical  piety  was  an 
objection.  Nay,  such  was  the  state  of  things  then  in  the 
Church  of  England,  that  a  minister  was  deemed  singular, 
and  was  pointed  at  and  reproached  as  a  "  Methodist,"  if  he 
became  truly  evangelical,  and  endeavored  to  preach  the 
Gospel  in  its  plainness  and  simplicity.  And  recent  events 
show  that  the  state  of  things  is  but  little  better  now.  The 
ruling  spirit  of  this  church  is  the  spirit  of  formalism.  And 
when  one  of  its  ministers  is  found  doing  the  work  of  a 
Christian  minister,  he  has  to  bear  a  reputation  for  preciseness 
and  singularity.  Scott  found  in  his  own  experience,  that 
the  church  was  far  more  willing  to  bear  with  his  want  of 
piety  than  with  its  presence.  During  the  early  years  of  his 
ministry,  he  entertained  only  the  lowest  Socinian  views ;  and 
though,  during  these  years,  he  set  an  exam})le  of  industry 
and  assiduity  worthy  of  imitation,  he  had  no  true  conception 
of  the  end  and  aim  of  the  Gospel.     Such  were  his  own  feel- 


170  HOUSEHOLD   READING. 

ings  upon  this  subject,  at  a  later  period  of  life,  that  he  ex- 
claims :  "  Forever  blessed  be  the  God  of  all  long-suffering 
and  mercy,  who  had  patience  with  such  a  rebel  and  blas- 
phemer, such  an  irreverent  trifler  with  his  majesty,  and 
such  a  presumptuous  intruder  into  his  sacred  ministry  ! 
I  never  think  of  this  daring  wickedness,  without  adoring 
that  gracious  God  who  permitted  such  an  atrocious  sin- 
ner to  live,  yea,  to  serve  him,  and  with  acceptance,  I 
trust,  to  call  him  Father,  and,  as  a  minister,  to  speak  in  his 
name." 

About  two  years  after  his  entrance  upon  the  ministry,  he 
married ;  and  an  incident  which  he  relates  in  connection  with 
this  event  reveals  the  state  of  things  in  the  religious  commu- 
nity around  him.  Speaking  of  himself  and  wife,  he  says : 
"  Even  before  we  were  fixed  in  a  settled  habitation,  the  thought 
seemed  to  occur  to  us  both,  almost  at  the  same  time,  that 
we  ought  to  pray  together,  and  accordingly  I  read  some 
prayers  from  a  book ;  and  when,  with  a  female  servant,  we 
entered  upon  a  temporary  dwelling  of  our  own,  I  immediately 
began  family  worsliip,  though  I  had  never  lived  in  a  family 
where  it  was  practised,  nor  ever  been  present  at  such  a  ser- 
vice except  once,  which  was  in  the  house  of  a  dissenting  min- 
ister." With  our  notions  of  wliat  constitute  the  proprieties 
of  religion,  it  seems  almost  incredible  that  one  could  have 
lived  twenty-seven  years  in  the  midst  of  a  professedly  Chris 
tian  community,  and  during  a  part  of  this  time  have  filled 
the  office  of  a  Christian  minister,  and  never  have  been  present 
but  once  at  family  worship,  and  that,  too,  in  the  house  of  a 
schismatic. 

The  great  change  which  soon  after  took  place  in  his  relig 
ious  views  he  ascribes  in  good  part  to  his  acquaintance  and 
correspondence  with  Rev.  John  Newton,  who  was  at  that  time 
settled  near  him  at  Olney,  the  residence  of  Cowper.  On  one 
occasion,  a  little  time  before,  he  had  heard  Mr.  Newton 
preach ;  but  he  regarded  him  then  only  as  a  very  singular 
and  enthusiastic  person,  holding  strange  views  of  the    Gos- 


THOMAS   SCOTT,    THE    COMMENTATOR.  171 

pel,  and  justly  subject  to  the  opprobrious  name  of  "  Metho- 
dist." Indeed,  in  the  commencement  of  their  correspond- 
ence, Scott  seems  to  have  been  principally  concerned  to  dis- 
abuse-Newton  of  his  strange  views  and  impressions,  and  bring 
him  down  to  a  more  sober  and  unimpassioned  view  of  the 
Gospel.  But  God  ordered  it  otherwise.  Scott  himself  was 
In'ought  to  a  new  and  spiritual  acquaintance  with  the  "  truth 
as  it  is  in  Jesus  "  ;  and  ever  after  he  labored  with  another 
spirit  and  with  other  aims. 

Scott's  ministry  was  from  the  first  a  laborious  ministry,  and 
especially,  after  this  change  in  his  views,  he  gave  himself  most 
assiduously  to  the  business  of  his  profession.  In  the  midst  of 
great  bodily  infirmities,  which  he  carried  with  him  tlirough 
life,  he  shrunk  from  no  duty,  but  was  ever  earnestly  engaged 
to  "  make  full  proof  of  his  ministry," 

After  pursuing  his  labors  for  sixteen  years  in  different 
places,  in  the  year  1788  he  entered  into  an  arrangement  with 
some  book  publishers  to  write  a  Commentary  on  the  Bible. 
The  work  was  to  be  published  in  numbers,  which  were  to  ap- 
pear weekly,  and  the  whole  was  to  be  comprised  in  one  hun- 
dred numbers.  The  work  was,  however,  extended  to  one 
hundred  and  seventy-four  numbers.  He  was  to  receive  one 
guinea  for  each  week's  labor,  or,  what  is  the  same  thing, 
for  each  number.  When  fifteen  numbers  were  printed,  the 
discovery  was  made  that  he  had  involved  himself  with  a  fall- 
ing house.  His  publishers  failed,  and  the  whole  plan  was  in- 
terrupted. Unwilling,  however,  to  abandon  an  undertaking 
in  which  he  had  himself  become  deeply  interested,  and  which 
received  more  favor  than  was  anticipated  from  the  public, 
he  set  to  work  to  contrive  means  for  carrying  forward  to 
the  completion.  This  brought  him  into  great  embarrass- 
ments ;  but  he  still  labored  on  and  finished  this  immense 
work  in  the  short  space  of  four  years.  Few  men  probably 
ever  turned  off  such  an  amount  of  writing  in  an  equal  space 
of  time.  It  cannot,  however,  be  regarded  with  commenda- 
tion that  a  work  of  this  kind  should  be  prepared  so  hastily. 


172  HOUSEHOLD   READING. 

The  wonder  only  is,  that,  under  the  circumstances,  it  should 
not  be  far  more  imperfect  than  it  is.  In  reference  to  the  re- 
sult he  says  :  "  At  the  close  I  calculated  in  the  most  favorable 
manner  my  own  pecuniary  concern  in  the  work,  and  the  re- 
sult was,  that,  as  nearly  as  I  could  ascertain,  I  had  neither 
gained  nor  lost,  but  had  performed  the  whole  for  nothing.  As 
far  as  I  had  hoped  for  some  addition  to  my  income  I  was 
completely  disappointed ;  but  as  Providence  otherwise  sup- 
ported my  family  and  upheld  my  credit,  I  felt  well  satisfied, 
and  even  rejoiced  in  having  labored,  often  beyond  what 
my  health  and  spirits  could  well  endure,  in  a  work  which 
had  been  pleasant  and  profitable  to  me,  and  which  I  hoped 
would  prove  useful  to  others."  This,  however,  was  but  the 
beginning  of  trouble.  The  whole  matter  had  become  so  in- 
volved by  the  failure  of  his  publishers,  that  it  was  many  years 
before  he  could  fully  extricate  himself  from  the  consequent 
embarrassments.  He  had,  however,  the  gratification  of  see- 
ing his  work  most  widely  circulated  in  England  and  in  this 
country.  Before  his  death,  which  occurred  in  the  year  1821, 
eight  American  editions  had  been  published,  besides  those 
which  had  been  issued  in  his  own  country.  There  are  few 
men  who  die  with  a  stronger  ground  for  hope  that  their  in- 
fluence will  live  after  them  for  good. 

In  reading  an  account  of  the  ministry  of  such  men  as 
Scott  and  Newton  in  the  English  Church,  one  cannot  but 
notice  the  great  impediments  which  they  had  to  contend 
against,  from  the  very  fact  that  they  were  regarded  by  their 
own  church  as  singular  and  hot-headed  men.  The  people  to 
whom  they  ministered  were  armed  against  the  simple  Gospel 
truth  which  they  preached,  because  the  great  body  of  their 
ministerial  brethren,  and  especially  because  men  high  in  office 
in  the  Church,  were  known  not  to  regard  their  course  with 
favor.  Wherever  they  went,  they  met  with  a  kind  of  sneering 
reception  on  the  part  of  many  who  were  regularly  connected 
with  the  Church.  And  yet  it  is  the  presence  of  a  few  men 
like  these,  scattered  here  and  there,  and  pursuing  their  labors 


UNFINISHED   LIFE.  173 

with  Christian  earnestness,  simplicity,  and  meekness,  that 
saves  the  Church  of  England  from  that  utter  formalism  and 
irreligion  to  which  she  so  strongly  inclines.  The  men  now  in 
her  communion,  upon  whom  the  doctrine  of  baptismal  regen- 
eration cannot  be  forced,  constitute  her  real  strength ;  but 
whether  it  is  wise  or  right  for  these  men  to  try  to  sustain 
such  a  tottering  fabric  is  very  questionable. 


UNFINISHED    LIFE. 

OH,  dost  Thou  call  for  me ! 
Master,  it  is  the  middle  of  the  day  ; 
I  hoped  to  spend  the  latest  twilight  ray 
In  haj^py  toil  for  thee. 

I  long  to  labor  on,  — 
Patient  to  bear  the  burden  and  the  heat, 
And  find  the  evening  shadows  cool  and  sweet 

When  all  my  work  is  done. 

Then,  hear  Thy  welcome  word, 
"  Come,  faithful  servant,  to  thy  promised  rest ! " 
My  work  "  well^  done,"  tlie  harvest  richly  blest. 

How  perfect  the  reward. 

This  for  the  tried  and  true ; 
But  Master,  how  am  I  for  glory  meet  ? 
The  work  is  yet  unfinished  at  my  feet 

Thou  gavest  me  to  do. 

How  little  fruit  appears  ! 
Yet  I  have  ever  loved  to  do  Thy  will, 
The  precious  seed  to  sow,  the  soil  to  till, 

And  moisten  with  my  tears. 


174  HOUSEHOLD  EEADING. 

Weary  am  I  so  soon  ? 
O  no,  my  spirit  still  is  brave  and  fresh ; 
Dear  Lord,  it  is  the  weakness  of  the  flesh 

That  fainteth  in  the  noon. 

My  harvest  who  shall  reap  ? 
"Peace,  doubting  soul,  and  cast  on  me  thy  care, 
Trusting  the  hand  that  placed  the  vineyard  there, 

That  vineyard  still  to  keep. 

"  I  know  thy  tireless  zeal. 
How  thou  hast  wrought  in  sunshine  and  in  rain, 
And  heeded  not  the  weariness  and  pain 

For  love  that  thou  didst  feel. 

"  And  thy  reward  is  sure  ; 
In  heaven's  own  light  the  seed  in  weakness  sown, 
Thine  eyes  shall  see  to  plenteous  harvests  grown, 

And  canst  thou  ask  for  more  ? 

"  "What  mortal's  work  is  done  ? 
What  servant  shall  be  even  as  his  Lord  ? 
'  'T  is  finished,'  —  was  a  dying  cry  once  heard, 

It  rose  to  heaven  —  alone  ! 

"  0  faithful  unto  death  ! 
A  crown  of  life  is  ready  for  the  brow. 
And  joys  thou  hast  no  power  to  picture  now 

Await  thy  passing  breath.'* 

My  Saviour !  break  the  chain  ! 
Amazing  love,  that  sets  my  spirit  free, 
And  makes  my  broken  life  complete  in  thee. 

Come  quickly.  Lord  !  Amen. 


A  RATIONAL   CONVERSION.  17F> 


A    RATIONAL    CONYEESION. 

PASTOR.  Good  morning,  Mr.  A.  I  have  called  this 
morning  to  have  a  kind  and  frank  conversation  with 
you,  if  you  are  willing,  on  the  subject  of  religion.  Will  you 
tell  me,  if  you  please,  what  your  feelings  are  in  regard  to  it  ? 

3I)\  A.  Well,  sir,  I  hardly  know  what  to  say.  I  am  fully 
convinced  of  the  truth  of  the  Bible,  and  of  the  importance  of 
a  personal  interest  in  the  salvation  of  Christ ;  but  I  cannot 
say  that  I  have  any  special  feeling  on  the  subject.  I  know 
that  I  am  a  sinner,  and  that  I  must  become  a  Christian  in 
order  to  be  saved.  But  this  intellectual  conviction  awakens 
no  such  emotion  as  it  ought.  I  hope  that  some  day  I  shall 
have  more  feeling  upon  the  subject. 

jPastor.  As  you  look  bqjsk  over  your  past  life,  can  you  not 
clearly  see  that,,  so  far  as  your  treatment  of  God  is  concerned, 
you  have  been  entirely  and  most  wickedly  wrong  ?  You 
have  paid  no  heed  to  his  commands,  never  obeying  them  for 
the  sake  of  pleasing  him,  but  have  practically  spurned  his  au- 
thority. You  have  never  earnestly  tried  to  love  him,  con- 
sulting his  will  in  preference  to  your  own,  but  have  slighted 
his  grace  and  resisted  his  Spirit.  All  his  manifestations  of 
love  toward  you,  you  have  thanklessly  appropriated,  and 
then  acted  as  if  you  tnew  there  was  no  God  in  existence. 
You  have  been  honest  toward  your  fellow-men,  but  most 
shamefully  dishonest  toward  God.  You  have  been  kind  and 
affectionate  toward  your  family,  but  toward  God  you  have 
been  an  unloving,  ungrateful,  and  rebellious  child.  Does  not 
your  own  conscience  assent  to  these  charges  ? 

Mr.  A.  Yes,  sir ;  I  see  I  am  constrained  to  acknowledge 
that  it  has  been  so.  I  have  indeed  lived  for  myself  and  my 
family,  without  any  regard  to  God. 

Pastor.  And  for  such  treatment  of  the  Most  High  you  arc 
justly  under  the  condemnation  of  his  righteous  law.     If  its 


176  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

merited  penalty  falls  upon  you,  you  are  crushed  into  remedi- 
less woe.  But  Christ  has  died  to  remove  the  governmental 
obstacles  to  the  forgiveness  of  sin.  And  on  the  ground  of  his 
atonement,  God  sends  you  an  earnest  entreaty,  as  well  as  an 
authoritative  command,  to  come  back  to  him  with  penitence 
for  the  past  and  promised  obedience  for  the  future,  and  re- 
ceive the  pardon  he  is  so  ready  and  desirous  to  bestow. 

BIr.  A.  Yes,  sir ;  I  understand  and  believe  this  ;  but  I  am 
in  no  proper  mood  to  go  to  him  on  such  an  errand.  I  have 
no  such  pungent  sorrow  for  my  past  .treatment  of  him  as  I 
ought  to  have,  and  could  not  go  to  him  in  my  present  state 
with  any  hope  of  acceptance. 

Pastor.  You  wholly  mistake  the  ground,  my  dear  sir,  on 
which  acceptance  is  to  be  hoped  for.  Christ  will  never 
accept  any  man  because  he  feels  his  guilt  so  deeply.  Nor, 
on  the  other  hand,  will  he  ever  reject  any  man  because  he 
feels  his  guilt  so  slightly.  It  is  not  a  torturing  sorrow  for 
the  past  that  he  specially  requires,  but  a  sincere  and  unre- 
served consecration  to  him  for  the  future.  You  see  how  you 
have  treated  God  hitherto.  You  see  something  of  the  wrong- 
fulness and  guilt  of  such  treatment.  Now  what  God  asks  of 
you  is,  that  you  come  to  him  honestly  confessing  your  past 
guilt,  and  deliberately  and  intelligently  accept  the  offered 
mercy  on  the  Gospel  terms. 

Mr.  A.    What  are  these  terms  ? 

Pastor.  A  simple,  helpless  trust  in  Christ  for  the  forgive- 
ness of  the  past,  and  an  unconditional  submission  to  him  for 
the  future.  And  by  an  unconditional  submission  I  mean, 
making  his  will  the  ruling  principle  of  your  life,  aiming  to  do 
in  all  things  what  will  please  him,  and  for  the  sake  of  pleasing 
him.     You  can  comply  with  these  terms,  can  you  not  ? 

3Ir.  A.  Yes,  sir ;  but  I  have  not  faith  enough  in  myself  to 
believe  that,  if  I  should  make  such  a  consecration  of  myself 
to  him,  I  should  keep  my  vow. 

Pastor.  I  hope  you  have  n't.  I  should  be  very  sorry  if 
you  had.     You  do  not  need  more  faith  in  yourself,  but  more 


A  RATIONAL   CONVERSION.  177 

faith  in  Cflirist.  He  has  promised  that  if  you  will  thus  cast 
yourself  on  his  mercy,  and  dedicate  yourself  to  his  service, 
he  will  adopt  you  into  his  family,  and  will  watch  over  you 
with  such  efficiency  as  to  secure  your  obedience  here  and 
your  salvation  hereafter. 

And  now,  my  dear  friend,  the  great  question  which  God  is 
asking  you  to  answer  is,  whether  you  will  thus  cast  yourself 
on  his  offered  mercy,  and  take  it  henceforth  as  the  supreme 
law  of  your  life  TO  please  and  obey  god. 

Mr.  A.  I  see  that  I  ought  to  do  it.  But  such  an  act  of 
consecration  is  a  most  solemn  thing.  If  kept,  it  must  change 
the  whole  course  of  my  life. 

Pastor.  It  is  indeed  a  most  solemn  thing,  and  I  would 
have  you  act  calmly  and  intelligently,  in  full  view  of  the 
solemnity  of  the  act,  with  a  just  appreciation  of  its  signifi- 
cance. You  are  to  cast  yourself  upon  Christ's  mercy  for  the 
forgiveness  of  your  past  sins,  and  solemnly  vow  that,  God 
helping  you,  you  will  henceforth  live,  day  by  day,  aiming  to 
do  in  all  things  as  you  believe  Christ  would  wish  you  to  do. 
Now,  if,  as  you  say,  you  see  that  you  ought  to  do  it,  the 
momentous  question  is  waiting  for  your  decision,  —  Will  you 
do  it? 

Mr.  A.  (After  a  few  moments'  silent  thought.)  Yes,  sir, 
I  will.  I  will  do  what  I  see  to  be  right.  God  helping  me,  I 
will  henceforth  live  for  him. 

The  above  conversation  is  no  fancy  sketch.  It  is  substan- 
tially a  true  report  of  a  conversation  which  occurred  some 
time  since  between  a  pastor  and  one  of  his  parishioners.  Af- 
ter the  decision  had  been  given  with  a  solemn  and  deliberate 
earnestness,, the  two  knelt  together,  and  the  pastor  led  in  a 
prayer  suitable  to  the  occasion.  Since  then,  that  man  has 
been  living,  not  only  a  most  manifest,  but  a  most  manifestly 
growing  Christian  life. 


12 


178  HOUSEHOLD  EEADING. 


I 


THE    NAME    OF    GOD. 

HAD  in  my  regiment  several  men  who  were  called 
"  preachers  "  by  the  colored  people,  because  they  always 
took  charge  of  their  meetings,  and  exhorted  a  great  deal. 
One  of  these  was  about  fifty-five  years  old,  with  gray  hair  and 
wrinkled  face  and  somewhat  enfeebled  constitution,  for  he 
had  been  a  hard-working,  much-abused  slave.  He  was  very 
anxious  to  learn  to  read,  and  with  great  effort  he  made  con- 
siderable progress  in  a  short  time.  He  had  learned  the 
alphabet,  and  was  reading  words  of  two  and  three  letters  ; 
and  one  day  as  I  sat  by  his  side  going  over  the  words  with 
him,  and  pointing  out  to  him  the  objects  which  they  stood  for, 
we  came  to  the  word,  written  in  large  letters,  "  GOD." 

"  That  is  the  name  of  the  Being  you  preach  about  some- 
times," said  I. 

He  dropped  his  book,  and  held  up  his  hands  in  surprise,  and 
exclaimed,  with  deep  emotion,  "  Is  that  the  name  of  God ! 
and  that  the  way  it  looks  when  printed  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  "  that  is  the  name  of  your  Heavenly  Fa- 
ther" ;  and  I  picked  up  the  book  and  found  the  place  for  him, 
but  his  eyes  were  full  of  tears  of  joy,  which  he  had  to  brush 
away  before  he  could  see  the  blessed  name  again. 

"  That  is  the  Being,"  he  continued,  "  about  whom  I  have 
preached  for  many  years,  and  whom  I  've  tried  to  serve  all 
my  life  ;  and  now,  0  blessed  day  !  God  has  permitted  these 
old  eyes  to  see  to  read  his  name  ! " 

Somehow  this  incident  affected  me  deeply,  aad  for  some 
minutes  we  were  both  in  silence  and  both  in  tears. 

We  do  not  realize  how  full  and  rich  our  mercies  are. 
What  would  our  homes  be  without  the  Bible  ?  What  should 
we  do  without  the  power  to  read  its  precious  truths  ?  Our 
minds  and  hearts  should  be  in  a  state  of  constant  gratitude 
to  God  for  the  gift  of  his  Word,  and  for  the  power  and  priv- 
ilege to  read  and  understand  its  teachings. 


STEPHEN   ARNOLD  DOUGLAS.  179 


STEPHEN    ARNOLD    DOUGLAS. 

A  GREAT  demonstration  was  made  at  Chicago,  in  con- 
nection with  a  proposed  monument  over  the  grave  of 
Stephen  A.  Douglas.  The  President  of  the  United  States 
travelled,  circuitously,  all  the  way  from  the  Potomac  to  the 
head  of  Lake  Michigan,  ostensibly  for  the  sake  of  taking  a 
part  in  the  pomp  of  that  occasion,  but  really,  as  the  facts 
show,  for  the  sake  of  making  objurgatory  harangues  against 
Congress  wherever  he  could  find  a  sufficiently  patient  audi- 
ence, and  in  some  places  where  he  could  not.  I  have  read 
not  only  Mr.  Johnson's  speeches,  but  also  what  is  much  more  to 
the  purpose,  General  Dix's  well-prepared  oration  in  commem- 
oration of  the  services  which  Stephen  A,  Douglas  rendered  to 
his  country,  or  is  supposed  to  have  rendered  ;  but  after  all, 
though  not  unwilling  to  receive  information  and  to  reconsider 
the  man's  character  and  history,  I  have  not  been  able  to  see 
any  sufficient  reason  for  reversing  or  materially  modifying  the 
judgment  which  I  formed  long-  ago,  when  the  "  little  giant " 
was  at  the  height  of  his  celebrity. 

It  may  serve  a  purpose  just  now  to  speak  of  Douglas  as 
an  "  illustrious  statesman  "  ;  but  history  will  award  no  such 
honor  to  his  memory.  He  was  only  what,  in  our  dialect  of 
the  English  language,  is  called  a  politician.  As  I  have  been 
accustomed  to  estimate  his  character  and  his  career,  he  had 
very  little  of  that  knowledge  which  distinguishes  the  states- 
man from  the  politician  ;  and  he  was  exceedingly  defective  in 
the  humanity,  the  generosity,  the  love  of  justice,  the  patriotic 
self-forgetfulness,  without  which  there  can  be  no  statesman- 
ship worthy  of  the  name.  Regard  him  only  as  a  politician,  a 
manager  of  parties  and  factions,  an  office-seeking  demagogue, 
a  partisan  debater,  and  his  ability  was  wonderful.  He  seems 
to  have  been  the  ablest  man  of  tliat  class  that  we  have  ever 


180  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

had  in  this  country ;  but  it  takes  more  than  all  this  to  make 
a  statesman,  still  more  to  make  an  illustrious  statesman. 

The  history  of  Douglas,  from  his  first  appearance  in  public 
life,  is  the  history  of  a  "  smart  man,"  coarse  and  selfish, 
crowding  himself  forward,  and  struggling  to  rise.  In  those 
days  (say  in  1843)  the  Democratic  party,  with  which  he  had 
connected  himself,  was  understood  to  be  the  party  of  pro- 
gress ;  and  from  friends  and  foes  of  that  party  we  heard  much 
about  the  "  progressive  Democracy."  Douglas,  therefore,  as 
belonging  to  that  party,  and  still  more  as  aspiring  to  be  a 
leader  of  it,  so  that  the  party  should  belong  to  him,  was 
bound  to  be  "  progressive,"  and  he  was  progressive  in  one 
sense,  but  not  in  any  honorable  sense  of  the  word  "  progress." 
Democracy  was  in  those  days  defined  to  be  the  doctrine  of 
"  the  superiority  of  man  over  his  accidents,"  —  the  doctrhie, 
in  other  words,  that  simple  manhood,  what  belongs  to  human 
nature,  is  higher  and  more  important  than  all  the  accidental 
differences  of  wealth,  or  culture,  or  class,  or  race,  by  which 
one  man  is  distinguished  from  another.  Had  Stephen  A. 
Douglas  honestly,  and  with  the  enthusiasm  of  an  earnest  be- 
lief, accepted  that  doctrine,  he  might  have  been  a  statesman  ; 
for  he  would  have  had  something  to  aim  at  in  political  life 
aside  from  his  own  advancement.  Had  he  been  a  democrat 
in  that  legitimate  and  higher  sense  of  the  word,  believing  that 
justice  —  "  equal  and  exact  justice  for  all  men,"  — justice 
incorporated  into  the  laws  and  dominating  over  all  institutions 
and  policies  —  is  essential  to  the  true  welfare  of  states  and 
nations,  he  might  have  been  a  great  man,  instead  of  being 
only  a  "  smart  man."  But  he  had  no  such  faith.  His  aim 
was  to  make  himself  serviceable  to  his  party,  that  his  party 
might  become  serviceable  to  him,  —  to  humor  and  please  the 
ruling  majority  of  the  people,  that  the  majority  might  give 
him  their  votes.  Like  many  other  politicians,  he  cared  little 
for  men  simply  as  endowed  by  their  Creator  with  inalienable 
rights  ;  but  he  thought  much  of  men  invested  with  the  right 
of  suffrage,  especially  if  ignorant  enough  to  serve  his  pur- 


STEPHEN   ARNOLD   DOUGLAS.  181 

pose.     In  his  view  a  negro  had  no  riglits,  because  a  negro  had 
no  vote. 

It  is  easy  to  see  whether  his  career  in  Congress  shows  him 
to  have  been  a  statesman,  or  only  a  politician.  There  was  a 
question  between  the  United  States  and  Great  Britain  about 
our  northwestern  boundary.  Douglas,  then  in  the  House  of 
Representatives,  was  "  prominent "  among  those  whose  cry 
was  "  Fifty-four  forty,  or  fight !  "  and  he  "  advocated  with 
great  fervor "  an  immediate  preparation  for  war,  that  we 
might  "  drive  Great  Britain  and  the  last  vestige  of  royal 
authority  from  the  continent  of  North  America,  and  make 
the  United  States  an  ocean-bound  republic."  When  John 
Tyler's  treaty  for  the  annexation  of  Texas  had  failed  of 
being  ratified  by  the  Senate,  Douglas  was  one  of  those  who 
introduced  a  plan  to  override  the  treaty-making  power,  and 
to  make  Texas,  though  at  war  with  Mexico,  one  of  the 
United  States.  Of  course,  he  was  among  the  foremost  in 
declaring  that  the  war  which  we  had  assumed,  in  assuming 
the  relations  and  responsibilities  of  a  revolted  Mexican  state, 
was  an  unprovoked  invasion  of  our  territory  on  the  part  of 
Mexico.  He  opposed  the  treaty  of  peace  by  which  that  war 
was  ended.  He  opposed  the  Clayton-Bulwer  treaty,  for  the 
reason  that,  "  as  certainly  as  the  Republic  exists,  we  shall  be 
compelled  to  colonize  and  annex  Mexico  and  Central  Amer- 
ica." He  declared  himself  in  favor  of  the  acquisition  of 
Cuba,  when  that  was  the  favorite  scheme  for  stimulating  the 
growth  and  increasing  the  profits  of  the  Southern  trade  in 
slaves.  When  there  arose  an  excitement  because  British 
cruisers  in  the  Gulf  of  Mexico  had  assumed,  with  superser- 
viceable  zeal,  to  search  vessels  on  the  coast  of  Cuba  suspected 
of  covering  the  African  slave-trade  with  the  American  flao;, 
he  was  for  sending  a  ship  of  war  to  capture  any  of  those 
British  cruisers,  and  for  postponing  all  negotiation  till  after 
the  commencement  of  hostilities  ;  and  ho  introduced  a  bill  to 
authorize  such  a  procedure.  When  that  bill  had  been  set 
aside,  he  introduced  another,  virtually  authorizing  President 


182  HOUSEHOLD   READING. 

Buchanan  to  make  war  upon  Great  Britain  at  discretion,  and 
placing  at  his  disposal,  for  that  purpose,  the  navy,  the  army, 
the  militia,  fifty  thousand  volunteers,  and  ten  millions  of  dol- 
lars. Fortunately  for  the  country,  that  bill  was  not  passed ; 
and  it  may  be  presumed  that  he  had  good  sense  enough  to 
rely  upon  its  not  passhig  when  he  introduced  it.  All  these 
things  seem  like  the  action  of  a  reckless  demagogue,  rather 
than  of  a  calm  and  sagacious  statesman,  —  more  like  Mr. 
Jefferson  Brick  than  like  any  name  which  history  will  delight 
to  honor.  The  one  idea  in  the  statesmanship  of  Douglas 
seems  to  have  been,  to  keep  himself  on  the  top  of  the  top 
most  wave  in  the  ever-advancing  tide  of  the  Democratic 
party. 

But  the  great  measure  with  which  his  name  is  inseparabl}^ 
connected  is  that  which  first  lighted,  in  our  country,  the  fire 
of  civil  war.  I  mean  the  Nebraska  Bill,  or  Kansas-Nebraska 
Bill,  of  1853  -  54,  by  which  the  prohibition  of  slavery  in  the 
vast  regions  west  and  north  of  Missouri,  after  having  been 
in  force  through  the  third  part  of  a  century,  was  repealed. 
Questions  relating  to  slavery  have  always  been,  in  this  coun- 
try, a  perilous  ordeal  for  public  men,  and  a  detective  test  of 
false  pretensions  to  statesmanship.  The  course  which  a  man 
like  Douglas,  with  his  aspirations,  would  take,  was  naturally 
determined  by  two  considerations  :  first,  the  necessity  of  pro- 
pitiating the  immense  political  power  concentrated  in  and  for 
the  institution  of  slavery ;  and,  secondly,  the  necessity  of  not 
seeming  to  sacrifice  the  rights  and  interests  of  the  people  in- 
habiting the  Free  States.  How  to  evade  the  responsibility 
which  rested  upon  the  national  government  in  regard  to  the 
establishment  of  justice  and  liberty  in  the  national  Territories, 
was  the  great  problem  with  scheming  politicians.  Douglas, 
early  in  his  career,  committed  himself  for  the  "  popular- 
sovereignty  "  dodge,  as  the  most  convenient  way  of  evading 
responsibility  and  of  excluding  disputes  about  slavery  from 
Congress  and  from  Democratic  party  conventions.  His 
scheme  was,  that  the  inhabitants  of  any  Territory  at  its  or- 


OUR  NATIONAL   FLAG.  183 

gaiiization,  or  at  any  time  afterwards,  should  establish  negro 
slavery  if  they  pleased,  and  so  determine  the  character  of  the 
Territory  and  of  the  State  which  should  grow  up  there. 
The  underlying  theory  of  his  scheme  was,  that  negroes  were 
not  people  nor  inhabitants,  but  only  a  certain  kind  of  prop- 
erty, the  utility  of  which  in  the  Commonwealth  was  matter 
of  dispute.  His  statesmanship  could  rise  no  higher  than 
that  level.  How  his  dodge  of  popular  sovereignty  failed  him 
in  that  greatest  and  most  memorable  measure  of  his  public 
life,  I  need  not  now  undertake  to  show.  How  utterly  he, 
with  all  his  audacity,  failed  to  conciliate  the  slavery  interest ; 
how  the  border  ruffians,  with  the  connivance  of  President 
Buchanan,  made  his  popular-sovereignty  scheme  responsible 
for  the  ineffable  villany  of  the  Lecompton  Constitution  ;  how 
he,  to  secure  his  re-election  to  the  Senate  from  the  Free  State 
of  Illinois,  was  compelled  to  oppose  that  Lecompton  villany 
and  the  Democratic  administration  that  sustained  it ;  how 
he  lost,  in  that  way,  the  confidence  and  the  votes  of  the 
South,  —  all  this,  if  I  should  repeat  the  details,  would  be  the 
story,  not  of  a  statesman,  but  of  a  demagogue,  —  bold,  cun- 
ning, unprincipled,  and  at  last  unsuccessful.  The  attempt  to 
canonize  Stephen  A.  Douglas  among  the  illustrious  statesmen 
in  our  history  must  fail. 


OUR    NATIONAL    FLAG. 

FEW  know  its  exact  history.  Few,  even,  seem  to  know 
accurately  its  theory  of  construction.  It  is  vaguely  held 
to  be  the  "  stars  and  stripes,"  as  if  stars  and  stripes  put  to- 
gether almost  anyhow  in  red,  white,  and  blue,  would  create 
it.  Of  the  more  than  five  thousand  which  may  now  be  found 
waving  in  the  spring  breeze  within  three  miles  of  the  desk 
whereon  we  write,  we  have  seen  only  two  or  three  wliich 


184  HOUSEHOLD  READING 

■would  be  acknowledged  by  the  government  as  legal  national 
flags. 

From  the  union  of  Scotland  and  England,  in  1707,  until  the 
union  of  Great  Britain  with  Ireland  in  1801,  the  national  flag 
of  Great  Britain  was  a  red  flag,  bearing  in  its  upper  and  left- 
hand  corner  the  red  cross  of  St.  George,  united  witli  the 
white  cross  of  St.  Andrew.  As  being  emblematical  of  the 
union  of  the  two  kingdoms,  it  was  commonly  called  the 
"  Union  flag  "  ;  and,  as  being  the  flag  of  British  sovereignty 
abroad  as  well  as  at  home,  it  was  the  flag  of  the  Colonies 
here.  It  was,  beyond  question,  the  flag  to  which  Frothing- 
ham  refers  in  his  "Siege  of  Boston,"  where  he  says,  "In 
1774  there  are  frequent  notices  of  Union  flags  in  the  news- 
papers, but  I  have  not  met  with  any  description  of  the  devices 
on  them."  The  "  Literary  World  "  of  October  2,  1852,  con- 
tained the  following  paragraph,  which  indicates  that  the 
Colony  of  New  York  used  the  same  flag,  "  In  March,  1775, 
a  Union  flag  with  a  red  field  was  hoisted  at  New  York  upon 
the  Liberty  Pole,  bearing  the  inscription  '  George  Rex,  and 
the  Liberties  of  America,'  and  on  the  reverse, '  No  Popery.'  " 
This  flag  was  of  about  the  same  shape  and  proportions  with 
our  present  American  flag,  only  that  portion  which  displays 
the  stripes  in  our  flag  in  that  was  red  ;  while  that  portion 
which  in  ours  is  blue  and  bears  the  stars,  in  that  was  a  blue 
ground  with  a  St.  George's  (or  upright)  cross  of  red,  resting 
upon  a  St.  Andrew's  (or  inclined  at  an  angle  of  forty-five 
degrees)  cross  of  white. 

When  the  Revolution  broke  out,  this  became,  of  course,  the 
enemy's  flag,  and  it  was  at  once  a  question  what  should  be 
the  banner  of  the  Revolutionists.  The  Connecticut  troops 
bore  flags  emblazoned  with  their  State  arms,  with  the  State 
motto,  and  colored  by  the  color  of  tlie  regiment  bearing  them. 
General  Putnam,  July  18,  1775,  bore  a  red  flag  with  "  Qui 
transtulit  sustinet,'"  on  one  side,  and  '-'■An  Appeal  to  Heaven^^^ 
on  the  other.  Colonel  Moultrie  displayed  in  South  Carolina, 
at  the  taking  of  Fort  Johnston,  a  blue  flag  with  a  crescent  in 


OUR  NATIONAL   FLAG.  185 

one  corner.  The  floating  batteries  carried  a  white  flag  with 
a  green  pine-tree  in  the  middle,  and  the  legend  "  Appeal  to 
Heaven.^''  The  cruisers  of  JNIassachusetts  carried  the  same 
flag.  The  flag  presented  by  Colonel  Gadsden  to  the  Provin- 
cial Congress  of  South  Carolina,  February  9,  1776,  as  the 
standard  for  the  Commander-in-Chief  of  the  Navy,  was  a  yel- 
low flag  "  with  a  lively  representation  of  a  rattlesnake  in  the 
middle,  in  the  attitude  of  going  to  strike  ;  and  the  words 
underneath,  —  ^JDonH  tread  on  me! '  " 

The  first  use  of  a  new  Union  flag,  as  the  common  banner 
of  the  thirteen  Confederate  Colonies,  seems  to  have  taken 
place  at  Cambridge.  General  Washington  says,  writing  to 
Colonel  Joseph  Reed,  under  date  of  Cambridge,  January  4, 
1776,  "  On  the  day  which  gave  being  to  the  new  army,  we 
hoisted  the  Union  flag,  in  compliment  to  the  United  Colo- 
nies." This  Union  flag  thus  hoisted  on  Prospect  Hill,  over 
the  new  Colonial  army,  is  referred  to  by  other  witnesses. 
The  captain  of  an  English  transport,  writing  to  his  owners  in 
London,  under  date  of  Boston,  January  17, 1776,  says  :  "  I  can 
see  the  rebels'  camp  very  plain,  whose  colors  a  little  while 
ago  were  entirely  red  ;  but  on  the  receipt  of  the  king's 
speech  (which  they  burnt)  they  have  hoisted  the  Union  flag, 
which  is  here  supposed  to  intimate  the  union  of  the  Prov- 
inces." What  this  Union  flag  was  will  be  explained  by  an- 
other witness  from  over  the  sea.  The  British  "Annual 
Register "  for  1776  says :  "  The  arrival  of  a  copy  of  the 
king's  speech,  with  an  account  of  the  fate  of  the  petitoin 
from  the  Continental  Congress,  is  said  to  have  excited  the 
greatest  degree  of  rage  and  indignation  among  them ;  as  a 
proof  of  which,  the  former  was  publicly  burned  in  the  camp ; 
and  they  are  said,  on  this  occasion,  to  have  changed  their 
colors  from  a  plam  red  ground,  tvhich  they  had  hitherto  used, 
to  a  flag  with  thirteen  stripes,  as  a  symbol  of  the  number  and 
union  of  the  Colonies^ 

This  Union  flag  —  which,  on  the  evacuation  of  Boston  by 
the  British,  was  carried  into  the  town  by  Ensign  Richards  — 


186  HOUSEHOLD   READING. 

we  may  then  concludG  was  the  old  English  Union  flag,  with 
the  crosses  of  St.  George  and  St.  Andrew  in  the  upper  left- 
hand  corner,  but  with  the  red  field  exchanged  for  a  field  of 
thirteen  stripes  of  alternate  red  and  white,  to  stand  for  the 
thirteen  Colonies,  and  the  whole  so  symbolizing  the  u7iion 
between  them.  Some  mode  of  distinction  by  the  colo?-  of 
their  bunting  was  natural,  inasmuch  as  it  was  the  common 
practice  of  nations,  and  one  that  would  be  grateful  to  their 
old  associations.  Such  a  distinction  could  not  well  be  gained 
by  changing  the  wJiole  field  of  the  flag  from  British  red,  be- 
cause the  simpler  and  more  striking  colors  were  already  ap- 
propriated. Driven  thus  to  devise  some  combination  of  colors 
which  should  be  at  once  simple,  tasteful,  and  unique,  they 
natarally  hit  upon  stripes  of  the  old  colors,  —  under  which 
they  had  fought  the  Indians  and  the  French,  and  which  they 
loved,  —  of  a  number  to  indicate  the  number  of  associated 
Colonies.  Under  this  flag  the  early  battles  of  the  Revolution 
were  fought. 

When,  however,  the  Declaration  of  Independence  cut  the 
Colonies  forever  adrift  from  the  mother  country,  it  became 
natural  for  the  Colonial  Congress  to  consider  the  question  of 
some  authorized  flag  to  be  representative  of  the  new  nation 
which  was  struggling  into  birth.  This  consideration  resulted 
in  the  passage,  June  14,  1777,  of  the  following  Resolution, 
which,  however,  was  not  made  public  until  the  3d  of  Sep- 
tember following,  viz. :  — 

'■'•Resolved,  That  the  flag  of  the  thirteen  United  States  be  thirteen 
stripes,  alternate  red  and  white ;  that  the  Union  [that  is,  the  device 
in  the  upper  left-hand  corner,  to  take  the  place  of  the  now  incongru- 
ous crosses  of  St.  George  and  St.  Andrew]  be  thirteen  stars,  white 
in  a  blue  field,  representing  a  new  constellation." 

Colonel  Trumbull  represents  this  new  national  flag  as  used 
at  the  surrender  of  Burgoyne,  17th  October,  1777. 

Here,  by  this  natural  growth  of  ideas,  we  trace  the  genesis 
of  the  flag  which  for  more  than  eighty  years  has  waved  over 
the  territory  and  commerce  of  this  great  people. 


OUR   NATIONAL   FLAG.  187 

A  few  words  will  now  be  in  place  —  before  passing  to  fur- 
ther enactments  upon  the  subject  —  iu  reference  to  the  last 
phrase  of  the  above  Resolution,  viz.,  "  representing  a  new 
constellation.''^  Was  the  term  used  loosely,  as  covering 
merely  the  vague  idea  of  a  new  cluster  of  stars  in  the 
political  heavens,  or  was  it  used  more  precisely,  as  having 
reference  to  some  particular  and  well-known  constellation  in 
the  natural  heavens,  and  to  some  idea  with  which  that  con- 
stellation was  associated  in  the  mind  of  the  world  ?  With- 
out taking  space  to  go  into  all  the  particulars  out  of  which  a 
satisfactory  answer  must  be  framed,  it  will  be  sufficient  to 
say  here  that  Captain  Hamilton,  in  his  little  "  History  of  the 
National  Flag,-'  has  made  it  appear,  to  say  the  least,  emi- 
nently probable  that  the  constellation  Lyra,  —  the  symbol  of 
unity  among  men*  —  was  in  mind,  and  that  the  Original  in- 
tention was  to  have  placed  the  thirteen  stars  in  the  form  of 
that  constellation.  But  this  —  (may  it  have  been  because 
one  of  the  stars  in  Lyra  is  of  much  superior  magnitude  to 
the  others,  while  the  States  were  equal  sovereigns,  and  jeal- 
ous of  that  equality?) — was  not  done.  The  thirteen  stars 
were  arrayed  on  the  blue  field,  in  a  circle,  and  for  seventeen 
years  this  remained  the  flag  of  the  nation. 

The  journals  of  Congress  for  January  7,  1794,  show  that  a 
resolution  was  then  introduced  to  add  two  stripes  and  two 
stars,  because  Vermont  and  Kentucky  had  come  into  the 
Union.  Mr.  Goodhue  (of  Massachusetts)  thought  it  a 
"  trifling  business,  which  ought  not  to  engross  the  attention 
of  the  House,  when  it  was  their  duty  to  discuss  matters  of 
infinitely  graver  consequence.  If  we  go  on  tlius,  we  may 
have  twenty  stars  and  stripes,  but  the  flag  ought  to  be  per- 
manent." Mr.  Lyman  (of  Massachusetts)  thought  it  "  of 
the  greatest  consequence  not  to  offend  the  new  States."  Mr. 
Thatcher  (of  Massachusetts)  ridiculed  the  idea  "  as  a  con- 
summate specimen  of  frivolity.  At  this  rate,  every  State 
should   alter  its   public  seal  when  an  additional  county  or 

See  Anthon. 


188  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

township  was  formed."  Mr.  Greenup  (of  Kentucky)  "  con- 
sidered it  of  very  great  consequence  to  inform  the  rest  of  the 
world  that  we  had  now  two  additional  States."  Mr.  Boudi- 
not  (of  New  Jersey)  thought  Vermont  and  Kentucky  ought 
"  to  be  kept  in  good  humor."  The  bill  was  finally  passed, 
to  save  time  in  debating,  and  as  the  easiest  way  of  getting 
rid  of  the  subject,  though  Mr.  Goodhue  begged  the  favor 
that  it  might  not  go  upon  the  journals,  and  Mr.  Niles  was 
"  very  sorry  that  such  a  matter  should  even  for  a  moment 
have  hindered  the  House  from  more  important  affairs."* 
So,  January  13,  1794,  it  was  ordered  that  from  and  after 
May  1,  1795,  the  flag  should  have  ffteen  stripes  and  fifteen 
stars.  It  so  continued  during  twenty-three  years,  and  under 
it,  in  that  form,  were  fought  the  battles,  on  land  and  sea,  of 
the  "  last  war  "  with  the  mother  country. 

In  December,  1817,  Mr.  Wcndover  (of  New  York)  sub- 
mitted a  resolution  proposing  a  new  alteration.  He  said  if 
the  flag  never  had  been  altered,  he  should  be  opposed  to 
any  change  in  it.  But  now  he  thought  one  was  required. 
He  said  those  in  use  were  incongruous,  "and  unlike  each 
other  ;  that  flying  on  the  Capitol  bearing  nine  stripes,  and 
that  on  the  Navy  Yard  eighteen.  After  thorough  and  care- 
ful consideration,  his  action  resulted 'in  the  passage  of  a  law 
(approved  April  4,  1818)  restoring  the  number  of  stripes  to 
the  original  number  of  one  for  each  of  the  thirteen  States  first 
affiliated,  and  increasing  the  number  of  stars  so  that  each 
existing  State  have  one.     The  law  was  in  these  terms :  — 

"  Be  it  enacted,  That  from  and  after  the  4th  of  July  next,  the  flag  of 
the  United  States  shall  be  thirteen  horizontal  stripes,  alternate  red 
and  white ;  that  the  Union  be  twenty  stars,  white,  in  a  blue  field. 

"  And  that,  on  the  admission  of  a  new  State  into  the  Union,  one  star 
be  added  to  the  Union  of  the  flag ;  and  that  such  addition  shall  take 
effect  on  the  fourth  day  of  July  next  succeeding  such  admission." 

This  law  makes  no  express  provision  for  the  form  of  ar- 
rangement of  the  stars  in  the  blue  field,  but  it  is  understood 

See  Benton's  "  Abridgment,"  Vol.  I. 


THE   ISLE   OF   THE   LONG   AGO.  189 

that  Mr.  Weiidover  proposed,  as  the  old  form  of  the  circle 
would  require  the  stars  —  when  so  much  augmented  in 
number  —  to  be  too  small  for  the  best  effect,  that  the  stars 
be  thenceforth  arranged  in  the  form  of  a  large,  six-pointed 
star,  thus  gaining  room,  and  symbolizing  —  from  the  small 
stars  making  symmetrically  the  great  star  —  the  perfect 
combination  of  the  State  governments  in  the  one  great 
Union.  And  this  has  been  the  arrangement  of  the  correct 
flag  from  that  day  to  this. 

From  all  which  it  will  be  seen  that  the  present  legal  flag  of 
the  United  States  is  composed  of  thirteen  stripes  (seven  red 
and  six  white,  a  red  stripe  forming  the  top  and  bottom)  with 
a  square  blue  field  in  the  upper  left-hand  corner,  of  the 
depth  of  seven  stripes  (of  course  resting  on  white)  bearing 
ifiirty-three  stars  of  equal  size,  arranged  so  as  to  make,  to- 
gether, one  large,  six-pointed  star. 


THE    ISLE    OF    THE   LONG    AGO. 

OH,  a  wonderful  stream  is  the  river  Time, 
As  it  runs  through  the  realm  of  tears, 
With  a  faultless  rhythm  and  a  musical  rhyme, 
And  a  boundless  sweep  and  a  surge  sublime, 
As  it  blends  with  the  Ocean  of  Years. 

How  the  winters  are  drifting,  like  flakes  of  snow, 

And  the  summers  like  buds  between ; 
And  the  year  in  the  sheaf,  —  so  they  come  and  they  go 
On  the  river's  breast,  with  its  ebb  and  flow, 

As  it  glides  in  the  shadow  and  sheen. 

There  is  a  magical  isle  up  the  river  Time, 

Where  the  softest  of  airs  are  playing ; 
There  's  a  cloudless  sky  and  a  tropical  clime, 
And  a  song  as  sweet  as  a  vesper  chime. 

And  the  June  with  the  roses  is  staying. 


190  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

And  the  name  of  that  isle  is  the  Long  Ago, 

And  we  bury  our  treasures  there : 
There  are  brows  of  beauty  and  bosoms  of  snow, 
There  are  heaps  of  dust,  —  but  we  loved  them  so,  — 

There  are  trinkets  and  tresses  of  hair ;  — 

There  are  fragments  of  song  that  nobody  sing?, 

And  a  part  of  an  infant's  prayer ; 
There  's  a  lute  unswept,  and  a  harp  without  strings, 
There  are  broken  vows  and  pieces  of  rings. 

And  the  garments  that  she  used  to  wear. 

There  are  hands  that  are  waved  when  the  fairy  shore 

By  the  mirage  is  lifted  in  air ; 
And  we  sometimes  hear,  through  the  turbulent  roar, 
Sweet  voices  we  heard  in  the  days  gone  before. 

When  the  wind  down  the  river  is  fair. 

0,  remembered  for  aye  be  the  blessed  isle, 

All  the  day  of  our  life  till  night ; 
When  the  evening  comes  with  its  beautiful  smile, 
And  our  eyes  are  closing  to  slumber  awhile, 

May  that  "  Greenwood  "  of  soul  be  in  sight. 


GENERAL    LEE'S    SURRENDER. 

THE  country  never  witnessed  such  a  day  as  Monday,  the 
10th  of  April,  1865.  Enthusiastic  rejoicing  and  excite- 
ment were  universal,  and  every  one  yielded  to  the  impulse  of 
the  hour  to  join  in  the  grand  jubilee.  During  Sabbath  night 
the  telegraph  flashed  through  the  land  the  news  of  Lee's  sur- 
render, and  words  fail  to  express  the  mighty  joy  with  which 
the  glad  tidings  was  received.  In  many  of  our  cities  and 
towns  the  tide  of  popular  thanksgiving  could  not  be  restrained 
till  daybreak,  and  at  midnight  and  the  small  hours  of  the 
morning  the  bells  were  rung,  guns  fired,  bonfires  kindled, 


GENERAL  LEE'S  SUEEENDER.  191 

and  tlie  whole  community  roused  to  a  knowledge  of  the  glori- 
ous news.  When  morning  came,  the  feelings  of  the  people 
could  scarcely  find  ways  of  expression.  Shouts  of  exultation 
were  heard  on  every  side,  every  face  was  beaming  with  joy, 
business  was  not  thought  of,  and  all  gave  way  to  the  excite- 
ment of  the  occasion.  It  was  a  gala-day  in  Boston.  Joy  and 
thankfulness  were  everywhere  manifest.  At  an  early  hour 
processions  began  to  move  through  the  streets,  bands  of  music 
roused  the  enthusiasm  with  national  airs,  thousands  of  flags 
were  displayed,  impromptu  meetings  were  held  in  various 
places,  congratulatory  speeches  were  made,  hymns  of  thanks- 
giving were  sung,  bells  pealed  forth  joyful  tones,  the  earth 
trembled  with  the  roar  of  artillery,  military  companies  en- 
livened the  dark  moving  mass  of  men  with  their  gay  uniforms, 
schools  were  closed,  places  of  public  business  shut  up,  and 
"  each  one  sang  the  song  of  peace  to  all  his  neighbors."  The 
rejoicings  over  the  fall  of  Richmond  were  great,  but  they  were 
as  nothing  compared  to  the  exultations  over  the  surrender  of 
Lee  and  his  army. 

The  Merchants'  Exchange  was  filled  with  a  jubilant  crowd 
at  an  early  hour,  and  seemed  overflowing  with  delight  and 
patriotic  devotion.  Prayer  was  offered,  Old  Hundred,  Ameri- 
ca, John  Brown,  and  other  tunes  were  sung,  speeches  made, 
and  rousing  cheers  given  for  Lincoln,  Grant,  and  the  noble 
ofiicers  and  soldiers  who,  under  God,  have  gained  us  the  vic- 
tory. The  merchants  and  citizens  collected  in  great  numbers 
in  Franklin  and  Pearl  Streets  and  Winthrop  Square,  and 
enthusiastic  meetings  were  held  in  the  open  air.  The  streets 
were  elegantly  decorated  with  flags,  bands  of  music  were  in 
attendance,  patriotic  speeches  were  made,  and  the  greatest 
good  feeling  prevailed.  The  Old  South  church  was  opened 
for  public  services,  and  the  sacred  edifice,  rich  in  historic 
associations,  was  packed  with  an  eager  crowd.  A  cannon 
mounted  in  the  belfry  shook  the  building  with  a  salute  of 
thirty-four  guns,  and  the  organ  pealed  forth  its  loud  tones  of 
joy  and  praise.    The  national  flag,  surmounted  with  the  motto, 


192  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

"  Union  and  the  Constitution,"  was  spread  across  tlie  pulpit, 
beneath  which  was  a  platform  erected  for  the  speakers.  Rev. 
Dr.  Blagden  opened  the  services  with  prayer.  The  Star 
Spangled  Banner,  with  organ  and  choir  accompaniment,  was 
sung.  Rev.  Mr.  Manning  then  read  some  peculiarly  appro- 
priate selections  from  the  Bible,  commencing  with  the  seventh, 
eighth,  and  ninth  verses  of  the  fifty-third  chapter  of  Isaiah, 
"  How  beautiful  upon  the  mountains,"  &c.,  and  concluding 
with  "  Glory  to  God  in  the  highest,  and  on  earth  peace,  good- 
will to  men."  Eloquent  addresses  were  made  by  Rev.  A.  A. 
Miner,  D.  D.,  Rev.  W.  S.  Studley,  Rev.  Dr.  Kirk,  Hon. 
Richard  H.  Dana,  Jr.,  Edward  S.  Tobey,  Esq.,  and  Rev. 
Dr.  Blagden. 

At  the  State-House  the  news  was  received  with  the  greatest 
ecstasy.  All  business  was  suspended,  and  the  time  was  given 
to  heartfelt  rejoicings.  Hon.  A.  H.  Bullock  made  a  very 
powerful  speech  in  the  hall  of  the  House  of  Representatives. 
Resolutions  of  thanks  to  General  Grant  and  the  armies  un- 
der his  command  were  passed,  and  the  remainder  of  the  day 
given  to  general  rejoicing.  In  the  evening,  in  spite  of  the 
rain,  the  enthusiasm  of  the  people  could  not  be  restrained, 
and  took  the  brilliant  phase  of  illuminations  and  fireworks. 
The  city  was  ablaze  from  one  end  to  the  other,  and  many 
buildings  were  lighted  in  the  most  beautiful  manner.  The 
great  crowd  which  had  filled  the  streets  during  the  day  had 
dispersed  in  a  great  measure,  but  many  braved  the  pelting 
rain  to  witness  the  brilliant  display.  The  country  generally 
seems  to  have  given  up  the  day  to  celebrating  the  glorious 
news,  and  it  was  doubtless  the  greatest  day  of  rejoicing  ever 
known  in  the  land.  May  peace  soon  come  as  a  grand  con- 
summation to  this  season  of  national  thanksgiving ! 


ASSASSINATION   OF  PRESIDENT  LINCOLN.  193 


ASSASSINATION  OF  PRESIDENT  LINCOLN. 

GOOD  FRIDAY  night,  the  14th  of  April,  1865,  will  ever 
be  memorable  for  the  perpetration  of  the  most  diabolical 
crime  since  the  crucifixion.  President  Lincoln,  the  great, 
the  good,  and  the  beloved,  was  shot  through  the  head  by  a 
cowardly  assassin.  It  had  been  announced  that  Mr.  Lincoln 
and  General  Grant  would  attend  Ford's  Theatre  in  Washing- 
ton, and  the  public  was  delighted  at  the  prospect  of  seeing 
them.  As  the  time  approached.  General  Grant  found  it  im- 
possible to  go,  and  Mr.  Lincoln  went  with  great  reluctance, 
remarking  that  he  did  it  that  he  might  not  disappoint  the 
people.  Surrounded  by  his  family  and  a  few  friends,  the 
President  was  enjoying  the  relaxation  from  his  arduous 
duties,  when  a  man,  now  known  to  be  J.  Wilkes  Booth,  an 
actor,  suddenly  entered  the  box  in  which  the  President  was 
sitting,  fired  a  pistol  at  his  head,  stabbed  Major  Rathbone 
who  was  in  the  box,  and  who  had  risen  as  Booth  entered,  to 
ascertain  the  cause  of  the  interruption,  jumped  upon  the  stage, 
a  distance  of  eleven  feet,  uttering  the  words.  Sic  semper 
tyrannis!  ("Thus  always  to  tyrants!"),  and,  brandishing  a 
bowie-knife,  rushed  behind  the  scenes  to  the  outer  door,  and, 
leaping  upon  a  horse  in  waiting  for  him,  made  his  escape. 
The  whole  affair  did  not  occupy  thirty  seconds,  and  the 
audience  did  not  know  what  was  transpiring  until  the  awful 
tragedy  was  completed.  Mr.  Lincoln  was  taken  to  a  house 
immediately  opposite  the  theatre,  where,  without  once  re- 
turning to  consciousness,  he  lingered  until  twenty-two  min- 
utes past  seven  o'clock  of  the  morning  of  the  15th,  when,  as 
we  devoutly  believe,  he  passed  into  glory. 


13 


194  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 


ABRAHAM    LINCOLN. 

HOW  can  we  write,  with  the  dull  ache  of  sorrow  on  our 
heart,  and  our  dead  waiting  unburied  in  the  White 
House  ?  What  can  we  say,  when  words  fail,  and  sighs  and 
silence  are  the  natural  language  of  the  soul  ? 

Never  was  such  grief  before.  Never  before  were  so  many 
mourners ismitten  in  one  calamity ;  when,  from  the  Aroostook 
to  the  Golden  Gate,  five  millions  of  families  weep  almost  as 
they  would  have  wept  if  God  had  visited  them  as  he  did  the 
people  of  stubborn  Pharaoh,  and  their  first-born  were  every- 
where lying  dead  within. 

Never  before  was  there  a  ruler  who  lived  so  near  to  the 
heart  of  the  people.  Dear  Old  Abe  was  of  them  and  from 
them ;  he  remembered  them,  he  knew  them,  he  loved  and 
trusted  them,  and  worked  for  them :  he  has  died  for  them. 
And  they  knew  him,  and  trusted  him ;  they  loved  his  plain 
way,  his  "  little  stories,"  his  blunt,  homely  English,  his  unas- 
suming modesty,  his  artless  simplicity,  his  wholesome  love 
of  exact  justice,  his  transparent  goodness.  Even  the  one 
fault  of  his  character  —  his  too  great  tenderness  of  spirit, 
making  it  almost  impossible  for  him  to  execute  the  sternest 
features  of  justice  —  was  of  a  nature  to  endear  him  to  the 
people,  who  felt  that 

"  Yet  the  light  that  led  astray 
Was  light  from  Heaven." 

Can  it  be  that  that  great  heart  is  still  ?  That  that  noble 
life-work  is  done  ?  That  that  clear  head,  and  tender  spirit, 
and  strong  hand  are  no  longer  to  steer  our  ship  of  state  ? 

God  has  so  willed  it ;  and  we  must  be  still  and  know  that 
he  is  God,  and  that  he  ruleth  among  the  nations.  It  is  our 
duty  to  say,  and  to  say  with  our  whole  soul,  —  and  would  be, 
even  if  the  thickest  darkness  veiled  the  future,  —  "  Even  so, 
Father,  for  so  it  hath  seemed  good  in  thy  sight." 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN.  195 

But  WO  will  not  doubt  the  love  of  God,  because  of  this 
calamity.  It  may  be  because  his  great  love  saw  no  other  way 
,  of  working  out  for  us  its  great  work,  that  He  has  thus  put 
down  one  and  set  up  another.  It  may  be  that  this  good 
man's  special  task  was  done,  and  that  sterner  qualities  than 
his  were  essential  to  the  finishing  up  of  the  work  in  righteous- 
ness ;  and  so  that  Pagan  commentary  on  the  observed  Provi- 
dence which  shapes  the  affairs  of  men,  which  has  so  strangely 
forced  itself  upon  the  mind  again  and  again,  as  the  true 
motto  of  the  Rebellion,  —  Quos  Dcus  vult  perdere  prius  de- 
mentat*  —  finds  another  illustration,  and  the  Rebels  were 
allowed,  in  their  insanity,  to  murder  their  best  friend,  and  at 
a  time,  too,  when  they  needed  him  most.  We  do  not  intend, 
however,  to  seek  to  lift  the  curtain  of  Providence.  It  is 
enough  that  what  God  allows  to  be  done  here  is  always  best. 
There  we  rest,  and  in  that  we  are  calm,  and  hope. 

Abraham  Lincoln  was  born  in  what  is  now  Larue  County, 
Kentucky,  12th  February,  1809,  and  was  therefore  fifty-six 
years,  two  months,  and  two  days  old,  at  the  time  of  his  death. 
His  grandfather  Abraham,  for  whom  he  was  named,  was 
shot  by  a  red  savage,  in  Kentucky  in  1784.  Thomas  w^as  his 
father  and  Nancy  Hanks  his  mother ;  who  were  married  in 
1808.  In  1816,  when  the  young  Abraham  was  seven  years 
old,  the  family  removed  to  what  is  now  Spencer  County,  In- 
diana, where  the  boy  was  early  put  to  the  hard  work  of  clear- 
ing the  forest,  and  where,  until  he  was  nearly  nineteen,  he 
toiled  with  his  father,  going  to  school  a  little  as  opportunity 
offered.  At  nineteen  he  made  a  trip  as  a  flat-boat  hand  down 
the  Mississippi.  In  1830,  when  twenty-one,  he  accompanied 
his  father  to  Macon  County,  Illinois,  where  he  helped  to  build 
the  family  log-cabin,  and  to  split  rails  enough  to  fence  ten 
acres  of  land.  The  next  year  he  hired  out  at  twelve  dollars 
a  month,  helping  to  build  a  flat-boat  and  then  to  navigate  it 
to  New  Orleans.  On  his  return,  his  employer  put  him  in 
charge  of  a  store  and  mill  at  New  Salem,  Illinois.  In  1832 
he  volunteered  in  the  "  Black  Hawk  "  War,  and  was  chosen 
*  Those  whom  God  wishes  to  destroy  he  first  inf;ituates. 


196  HOUSEHOLD   READING. 

captain  of  his  company,  —  a  promotion  which  he  said  pleased 
him  more  than  any  other  success  in  life.  He  was  next  beaten 
as  a  candidate  for  the  Legislature,  though  his  own  town  gave 
him  two  hundred  and  seventy-seven  votes  to  seven.  Soon 
after,  he  was  appointed  Postmaster  at  New  Salem,  and  began 
to  study  law  by  borrowing  law-books  at  evening,  which  he 
returned  next  morning.  He  learned  and  practised  surveying 
also.  In  1834  he  was  elected  to  the  Legislature,  and  re- 
elected in  1836,  1838,  and  1840.  In  1836  he  was  licensed  to 
practise  law,  and  in  1837,  removed  to  Springfield,  Illinois, 
where  he  opened  an  office  and  rose  rapidly  to  distinction, 
being  especially  eminent  for  his  success  in  jury  trials.  In 
1844  he  canvassed  Illinois  for  Henry  Clay.  In  1846  he  was 
sent  to  Congress  as  Representative,  taking  his  seat  in  Decem- 
ber, 1847.  In  Congress  he  was  an  anti-slavery  Whig,  and 
voted  forty-two  times  for  the  Wilmot  Proviso.  In  1849  he 
offered  to  the  House  a  plan  for  compensated  emancipation  in 
the  District  of  Columbia.  He  was  a  warm  opponent  of  the 
annexation  of  Texas.  He  was  a  member  of  the  Whig  Na- 
tional Convention  which  nominated  General  Taylor.  He  was 
urged  as  a  candidate  for  Vice-President  unsuccessfully,  in 
the  convention  which  nominated  Fremont  in  1856.  In  1858 
he  was  the  Republican  candidate  for  United  States  Senator 
in  opposition  to  Judge  Douglas,  and  the  two  stumped  the 
State,  their  speeches  being  subsequently  published,  and  that 
volume  bringing  Mr.  Lincoln  first  prominently  before  the  na- 
tion. The  result  was  a  popular  majority  of  more  than  four 
thousand,  but  a  defeat  by  eight  votes  in  joint  ballot  of  the 
Legislature.  He  was  put  in  nomination  in  1860  as  Republi- 
can candidate  for  President,  and  at  the  first  ballot  received 
102  votes  against  173|  for  Mr.  Seward,  50|^  for  Mr.  Cameron, 
48  for  Mr.  Bates,  and  scA^eral  scattering, —  233  being  neces- 
sary for  a  choice.  On  the  second  ballot  he  had  181  to  Mr. 
Seward's  1841.  On  the  third  ballot  he  had  354,  Mr.  Seward 
110|,  Mr.  Dayton  1,  and  Judge  McLean  i  a  vote.  Mr.  Lin- 
coln's nomination  was  then  made  unanimous,  and  his  election 


ABRAHAxM   LINCOLN.  197 

followed,  by  a  strictly  Northern  majority,  wliicli  was  immedi- 
ately succeeded  by  secession  and  the  Rebellion. 

Of  his  bearing  as  President,  it  is  enough  to  say  that  he  so 
held  on  his  way  with  admirable  practical  wisdom,  calm  delib- 
eration, profoundest  honesty  of  purpose,  and  most  earnest  de- 
sire to  know  and  to  do  the  right,  that  he  had  not  only,  under 
God,  been  permitted  to  see  the  Rebellion  substantially  crushed, 
but  had  conquered  the  prejudices  of  his  enemies,  and  so 
absorbed  the  love  of  all  hearts,  that,  with  scarce  a  solitary 
exception,  the  lines  of  Halleck  were  true  of  him :  — 

"  None  knew  thee  but  to  love  thee, 
Nor  named  thee  but  to  praise." 

He  is  gone,  —  gone  by  the  hand  of  a  Northern  traitor,  —  a 
viper  warmed  into  life  by  his  own  lenient  policy  of  permitting 
even  avowed  secessionists  still  to  have  an  asylum  in  the  bosom 
of  the  nation,  —  which  nurses  the  serpents  but  to  be  stung  by 
them.  The  whole  civilized  world  will  mourn  for  him,  not  ex- 
cepting the  people  of  the  so-called  Confederacy,  if  they  have 
any  common  sense  remaining.     While  all  agree  that  his  is 

"  One  of  the  few,  the  immortal  names, 
That  were  not  born  to  die." 


PRESIDENT   LINCOLN'S   FUNERAL. 

^N  Wednesday  the  19th  of  April,  1865,  the  whole  country 
was  in  mourning,  and  engaged  in  religious  services  in 
memory  of  him,  the  Martyr  President,  whose  funeral  ob- 
sequies were  then  taking  place  at  the  national  Capital.  The 
day  was  beautiful  and  had  the  air  of  Sabbath  sacredness,  and 
it  will  be  remembered  in  all  coming  time  as  the  day  set  apart 
for  the  burial  of  one  who  had  the  love  of  more  hearts  than 
any  other  man  that  ever  lived.  The  funeral  ceremonies  at 
Washington  were  the  most  touching  and  impressive  ever 
known  on  tliis  continent,  and  through  the  whole  solemn  day 


198  HOUSEHOLD   READING. 

nothing  occurred  to  mar  the  scene.  The  city  was  thronged 
with  a  tearful  crowd,  but  such  were  the  arrangements  that 
there  was  no  confusion.  As  early  as  eleven  o'clock,  all  the 
streets  within  half  a  mile  of  the  White  House  were  densely 
packed  with  people,  but  a  strong  military  guard  kept  about 
the  Executive  Mansion  a  large  open  space  within  which  no 
one  was  admitted  without  a  ticket.  The  exercises  were  held 
in  the  East  Room,  which  was  appropriately  draped,  and  fitted 
with  raised  seats,  so  that  all  present  could  see  the  officiating 
clergymen  and  the  coffin  containing  the  noble  dead.  About 
six  hundred  persons  were  admitted  to  the  East  and  Green 
Rooms,  comprising  delegations  from  States,  cities,  and 
organizations,  the  entire  Diplomatic  Corps,  officers  of  the 
army  and  navy,  the  pall-bearers,  twenty-two  in  number,  led 
by  Lieutenant-General  Grant  and  Vice-Admiral  Parragut 
arm  in  arm.  Governors,  members  of  Congress  and  of  the 
Supreme  Court,  a  few  ladies  and  others.  At  precisely  noon 
President  Johnson  and  cabinet  entered,  also  Mr.  Lincoln's 
private  Secretaries.  The  family  was  represented  by  Captain 
Robert  Lincoln,  the  brother  of  Mrs.  Lincoln,  and  little 
"  Tad,"  the  late  President's  favorite  child.  Mrs.  Lincoln, 
not  being  sufficiently  recovered  from  the  shock  to  leave  her 
bed,  was  not  present.  The  services  were  conducted  by  Rev. 
P.  D.  Gurley  (Presbyterian),  Mr.  Lincoln's  pastor,  assisted 
by  Rev.  Dr.  Hall  (Episcopal),  Bishop  Simpson  (Methodist), 
and  Rev.  Dr.  E.  H,  Gray  (Baptist),  chaplain  of  the  Senate. 
Mr.  Gurley's  discourse  was  three  quarters  of  an  hour  in 
length  and  was  extremely  appropriate.  After  the  services,  the 
procession  moved  down  the  Avenue  to  the  Capitol,  where  the 
remains  were  deposited  in  the  Rotunda,  to  allow  the  many 
thousands  who  could  not  obtain  access  to  the  White  House 
an  opportunity  of  taking  a  last  look  at  the  noble  dead. 

The  funeral  car  was  built  for  the  occasion,  and  was  drawn 
by  six  iron-gray  horses.  The  procession  contained  not  less 
than  thirty  thousand  persons,  representing  every  department 
of  state  and  people,  and  thirty  bands  played  plaintive  mu- 


THE   ASSASSINATION.  199 

sic  tliroughout  the  entire  route.  It  was  a  significant  and 
impressive  sight  to  see  the  colored  race  fully  represented 
and  honorably  placed  in  the  procession ;  and  indeed  a  regi- 
ment of  negro  soldiers  headed  the  line.  It  was  fitting  that 
those  who  owed  their  freedom  to  the  Great  Departed  should 
share  in  the  public  mourning  !  The  broad  Avenue  was  filled 
almost  to  suffocation  by  spectators ;  tearful  and  silent  the 
vast  crowd  looked  at  the  moving  pageant,  and  felt  how  great 
and  good  a  man  had  departed.  Under  the  dome  consecrated 
to  Liberty  the  remains  reposed  until  the  following  morning, 
when  the  sad  procession  started  for  the  West. 


THE    ASSASSINATION. 

WEEP,  brothers,  weep !  You  have  cause.  It  is  right,  it 
is  manly.  The  murder  was  cruel.  It  searched  for  and 
found  the  spot  where  it  might  meet  and  wound  a  nation's 
heart.  No  common  sacrifice  would  satisfy  its  morbid,  fiend- 
ish appetite.  It  would  not  strike  until  it  could  bring  to  its 
foul  divinity  the  libation  of  a  nation's  tears.  Weep,  brothers  ; 
confess  to  the  success  of  the  enterprise.  The  shot  was  well 
aimed.  It  brought  us  all  down,  down  into  the  dust.  Our 
hearts  had  all  met  in  one  man  ;  and  there  they  all  received 
the  fatal  blow.  It  was  cruel  to  hurt  us  so.  We  bow  before 
the  monster  and  confess  his  power.  We  acknowledge  his  skill. 
He  understood  his  mission.  He  could  not  have  hurt  us  so  much 
if  he  had  hit  a  hundred  other  targets,  but  not  struck  there. 

It  surely  was  not  necessary  to  remove  Mr.  Lincoln  as  Com- 
mander-in-Chief of  the  army,  for  he  had  then  finished  the 
work  he  had  to  perform  in  that  capacity.  The  military  power 
of  the  Rebellion,  if  ever  it  was,  is  not  worth  defending  now, 
at  the  price  of  damning  one's  own  soul,  and  of  making  this 
earth  itself  a  hell  for  the  murderer.  It  surely  was  not  the 
President  tha,t  was  so  hated,  so  dreaded,  whose  paternal  heart 


200  HOUSEHOLD   READING. 

was  outrunning  a  nation's  will,  to  welcome  back  the  Prodigal 
It  was  not  the  man,  —  the  gentle,  generous,  woman-hearted 
Lincoln,  they  sought  to  slay.  If  it  was  an  act  of  personal 
hatred,  it  was  as  utterly  void  of  reason,  and  incapable  of  even 
palliation,  as  it  was  eminently  wicked.  If  it  was  an  act  of 
policy,  it  was  as  blind  a  blunder  as  the  several  enactments 
w  hich  organized  rebellion. 

We  cannot  yet  adapt  ourselves  to  the  new  condition  of 
things.  For  four  years  we  have  been  studying  history,  poli- 
tics, military  science,  naval  affairs  ;  but  Abraham  Lincoln  has 
been  the  central  figure  in  every  scene  our  imagination  has 
sketched.  If  a  military  commander  was  not  competent  to  do 
his  work,  Mr.  Lincoln  would  see  to  supplying  his  place  with 
one  that  was.  If  any  new  step  was  to  be  taken  to  bring  the 
oppressed  toward  the  enjoyment  of  their  rights,  we  waited  for 
a  new  proclamation  from  him.  If  States  were  struggling  back 
to  their  place  in  the  homestead,  our  eyes  turned  to  him.  We 
waited  for  him  to  show  them  the  way.  We  somehow  felt  the 
beating  of  a  heart  at  the  centre,  always  inspiring  cheerfulness, 
hope,  kindness,  patriotism.  But  that  has  passed,  —  forever 
passed.  And  we  must  now  take  up  each  riven  chord  of  the 
heart  to  attach  it  to  a  stranger. 

Yes,  we  mourn ;  we  are  a  stricken  people.  Tell  our 
brethren  who  believe  no  Republican  chief  can  be  loved  as 
they  love  their  king,  they  are  not  just  to  us.  Abraham  Lin- 
coln, without  ancestral  honors,  without  the  polish  of  cultivat- 
ed circles,  without  a  single  artificial  attraction,  or  any  con- 
ventional charm  connected  with  his  name  or  his  person,  has 
this  day  a  love  second  only  to  filial  affection,  —  a  love  founded 
on  intelligent  appreciation  of  his  character  and  life,  —  a  love  as 
tender  as  even  such  a  woman,  such  a  sovereign,  as  Victoria  in- 
spires,—  the  love  of  four  millions  of  God's  poor  children,  who 
sometimes  approach  the  borders  of  what  in  the  more  enlight- 
ened would  be  idolatry,  —  the  love  of  more  than  twenty  mil- 
lions as  intelligent,  as  high  in  the  moral  scale  as  any  other 
twenty  millions  living  together  in  any  part  of  tliis  world.    TelJ 


THE   ASSASSINATION.  iiOl 

them  we  loved  him.  We  did  not  crouch  at  his  feet ;  we  did 
not  believe  his  blood  any  better  than  our  own  ;  we  did  not  feel 
ourselves  honored  by  his  attentions ;  we  had  no  favors  to  ask 
of  him ;  we  had  no  factitious  glory  of  titles  and  vestments  to 
deceive  the  simple  in  regard  to  the  venerableness  of  his  per- 
son or  the  majesty  of  his  high  position.  We  exacted  of  him 
no  artificial  dignity,  no  constraint  upon  his  accustomed  meth- 
ods of  sitting,  standing,  dressing,  talking,  or  writing.  We 
loved  him  for  his  own  sake ;  and  we  revered  him  as  the  sym- 
bol of  the  authority  with  which  God  had  invested  the  nation 
for  its  own  defence  and  control. 

The  blow  was  struck  on  Friday  night.  We  heard  its  rever- 
beration on  Saturday  morning.  Six  days  have  passed  as  we 
are  now  writing.  Six  such  days  as  we  never  saw,  and  expect 
not  ever  to  see  again.  Yesterday  was  a  wonderful  day.  Gov- 
ernors' fasts.  Presidents'  fasts  are  powerless  for  the  major  por- 
tion of  our  people.  But  yesterday  God  proclaimed  a  fast. 
The  trumpet  was  sounded  in  our  Zion.  This  was  the  procla- 
mation :  "  Blow  ye  the  trumpet  in  Zion,  and  sound  an  alarm 
in  my  holy  mountain ;  let  all  the  inhabitants  of  the  land 
tremble,  for  the  day  of  the  Lord  is  come ;  a  day  of  darkness 
and  of  gloominess,  a  day  of  clouds  and  of  thick  darkness,  as 
the  morning  spread  upon  the  mountains.  Blow  the  trumpet, 
call  a  solemn  assembly  ;  gather  the  people,  assemble  the  elders, 
gather  the  children.  Let  the  ministers  of  the  Lord  weep  be- 
tween the  porch  and  the  altar  ;  and  let  them  say,  '  Spare  thy 
people,  0  Lord,  and  give  not  thy  heritage  to  reproach.'  "  Yes- 
terday was  a  day  of  humiliation,  mourning,  and  prayer. 

The  period  of  weeping,  however,  is  passing ;  next  comes 
that  of  reflection  ;  then  the  season  of  action.  A  nation  is 
thinking  to-day.  Its  thouglit  is  fixed  on  one  event,  that,  for 
tlie  time,  fills  the  horizon  with  its  lurid  light.  If  the  murder- 
ers designed  to  afflict  the  nation,  they  were  successful.  But 
perhaps  they  never  followed  in  imagination  this  bloody  deed 
to  its  second,  nor  to  its  final  stage.  They  have  sot  a  nation 
on  a  new  course  of  thought ;  and  that  thought  is  looking 


202  HOUSEHOLD   READING. 

backward  and  lorward.  Who  did  this  ?  What  was  his  mo- 
tive ?  Was  it  in  the  programme  of  treason  ?  If  not,  was  it 
an  excrescene,  an  unnatural  outgrowth  ?  Who  is  morally  re- 
sponsible for  this  enormity  ?  Whom  shall  the  nation  charge 
with  it  ?  If  some  men  should  be  too  magnanimous  and  chiv- 
alric  to  give  assent  to  the  deed  accomplished,  have  they  dis- 
played such  magnanimity  and  high-toned  honor  and  truth 
and  humanity  as  to  make  it  improbable  that  they  were  "  ac- 
cessory before  the  fact "  ?  The  nation  is  an  impanelled  jury 
making  up  its  verdict ;  and  when  they  shall  have  brought 
their  common  sense,  their  practical  sense,  their  moral  sense,  to 
act  on  it,  then  comes  the  period  of  action.  They  are  now  de- 
termining, from  what  has  been  done,  what  is  to  be  done  ;  and 
when  they  have  decided,  then  they  will  act.  Traitors,  assas- 
sins, oppressors,  they  will  act !  Not  by  mobs,  not  by  tram- 
pling constitutions  and  laws  under  foot,  but  in  accordance  with 
God's  great  laws,  —  that  crimes  must  be  punished  according  to 
their  magnitude,  —  that  individual  life  and  national  life  must 
oe  defended  by  all  the  forces  God  has  put  into  the  hands  of 
man. 


PRESIDENT    LINCOLN. 

THE   MORAL   AND   RELIGIOUS   ELEJIENT   IN   HIS   LIFE   AND 
CHARACTER. 

THE  scandalous  scenes  which  have  been  so  often  repeated 
of  late  in  Washington  conspire,  with  the  return  of  the 
anniversary  of  his  assassination,  to  recall,  with  great  fresh- 
ness and  tenderness,  the  memory  of  President  Lincoln. 
There  was  one  expression  in  the  first  veto  of  the  acting 
President,  which  met  the  hearty  approbation,  and  called 
forth  the  deep  sympathy,  of  the  loyal  and  Christian  people. 
It  was  that  in  which  he  spoke  of  Mr.  Lincoln  as  his  "  la- 
mented predecessor."     Perhaps  the  contrast  between  the  two 


PEESIDENT   LINCOLN.  203 

characters  and  tlic  two  administrations  was  necessary  to 
make  the  people  fully  sensible  how  much  they  had  lost. 
Certainly,  nothing  could  have  added  so  much  to  the 
poignancy  of  their  regrets.  The  want  of  temperance,  pa- 
tience, self-control,  and  high  moral  and  Christian  principle 
in  the  present  Chief  Magistrate,  have  given  us  a  new  ap- 
preciation of  the  unspeakable  value  of  those  qualities  in  his 
"  lamented  predecessor." 

Dr.  Holland's  "Life  of  Abraham  Lincoln  "  is  dedicated  to 
Andrew  Johnson,  in  these  beautiful  and  significant  words  :  — 

"  To  Andrew  Johnson,  to  whom  Providence  has  assigned  the  com- 
pletion of  Abraham  Lincoln's  labors,  I  dedicate  this  record  of  Abra- 
ham Lincoln's  life ;  with  the  prayer  that  History,  which  will  as- 
sociate their  names  forever,  may  be  able  to  find  no  seam  where  their 
administrations  were  joined,  and  mark  no  change  of  texture  by  which 
they  may  be  contrasted." 

I  know  not  with  what  feelings  the  author  has  recalled 
these  words  during  the  successive  weeks  and  months  which 
have  elapsed  since  they  were  written.  .But  I  am  sure  I  can- 
not read  them  without  the  deepest  sadness.  What  opportuni- 
ties has  Andrew  Johnson  lost,  —  lost  for  himself,  lost  for  his 
country,  lost,  never  to  be  recovered,  —  all  for  want  of  tem- 
perance, patience,  self-control,  and  high  moral  and  Christian 
principle  !  Perhaps  some  of  my  readers  would  add,  for 
want  of  good  advisers,  and  under  the  influence  of  bad  ones ; 
but  he  would  never  have  cast  off  those  who  were  the  chosen 
counsellors  of  Mr.  Lincoln,  and  taken  up  advisers  who  are 
controlled  by  no  higher  principle  than  a  short-sighted  regard 
to  supposed  present  political  expediency,  if  he  had  himself 
been  governed  by  Mr.  Lincoln's  paramount  regard  for  right 
and  controlling  faith  in  a  righteous  overruling  Providence. 

But  I  did  not  take  up  my  pen  to  write  a  paragraph  on  the 
state  of  the  country,  or  the  policy  of  the  administration  ;  and 
I  have  made  these  allusions  only  to  give  point  to  the  high 
moral  lessons  which  every  day's  experience  teaches  us  to  as- 
sociate more  and  more  with  the  life  and  character  of  Abra- 


204  HOUSEHOLD   BEADING. 

ham  Lincoln.  I  confess  that  I  have  been  surprised,  in  read- 
ing the  above-mentioned  Life  of  Mr.  Lincohi,  to  find  so  much 
evidence  that  deep  moral  and  religious  convictions,  a  firm 
and  controlling  persuasion  that 

"  Eight  is  right,  since  God  is  God, 
And  right  the  day  must  win,"  — 

SO  much  evidence  that  such  convictions  and  such  a  persua- 
sion were  the  characteristics  by  which,  from  early  childhood, 
he  was  pre-eminently  distinguished,  and  that  it  was  his  un 
swerving  obedience  to  these  principles  which,  in  the  end, 
gave  him  the  victory  over  all  his  time-serving  competitors,  as 
well  as  over  tlie  wickedness  and  malice  of  the  Rebellion.  We 
suspect  Dr.  Holland  himself  was  surprised  at  the  rich  vein 
which  he  struck  when  he  visited  the  section  where  Mr.  Lin- 
coln spent  his  early  life,  and  gathered  up,  from  his  friends 
and  acquaintance,  the  facts  of  his  early  history  ;  and  this 
deservedly  popular  author  has  encircled  his  brow  with  no 
other  such  unfading  laurel,  has  rendered  no  other  such 
priceless  service,  especially  to  the  young  men  of  the  country, 
as  by  setting  before  them,  in  so  attractive  a  form,  this  bright 
example.  Mr.  Raymond  has  written  the  history  of  President 
Lincoln's  administration,  and  preserved  his  speeches,  letters, 
and  state  papers  ;  but  Dr.  Holland  has  given  us  the  man^ 
and  dwelt  with  especial  interest  and  sympathy  on  his  moral 
and  religious  character.  It  should  be  added,  that  Mr.  Car- 
penter has  recorded  numerous  anecdotes  which  have  an  im- 
portant bearing  on  the  same  point.  There  is  scarcely  room 
in  what  remains  of  this  article,  to  hint  at  the  briefest  outline 
of  some  of  the  principal  facts. 

Mr.  Lincoln  was  indebted  for  his  talents  and  his  early  re- 
ligious convictions,  as  most  other  great  and  good  men  have 
been,  to  a  thoughtful,  sensitive,  pious  mother,  whose  death, 
when  he  was  ten  years  old,  burnt  the  impression  of  her 
teachings  into  his  tender  soul.  Among  the  few  books  which, 
in  the  poverty  of  his  family  and  the  seclusion  of  the  new 
settlements,  he  was  able  to  read  in  his  early  cliildhood,  the 


PRESIDENT   LINCOLN.  205 

Bible  and  Pilgrim's  Progress  left  their  indelible  impression 
on  his  mind  and  heart  and  style  ;  and  there  is  abundant 
evidence  that  a  pocket  New  Testament,  well  worn,  was  the 
constant  companion  of  his  private  and  public  life.  A  copy 
of  Ramsay's  Life  of  Washington,  borrowed  from  his  teacher, 
having  been  nearly  ruined  by  a  sudden  shower  while  in  his 
possession,  the  boy,  not  yet  ten  years  of  age,  carried  it  back 
with  a  frank  statement  of  the  facts,  and  made  the  book  his 
own  by  three  days'  labor  at  "  pulling  fodder,"  —  an  incident 
which  will  remind  every  one,  as  it  does  Mr.  Raymond,  of  the 
familiar  story  of  the  boy  George  "Washington  and  his  hatchet. 
He  was  scarcely  a  year  older,  when  he  showed  his  humanity 
and  compassion  for  the  lost,  —  the  same  in  kind  which  he 
carried  to  excess,  perhaps,  in  pardoning  deserters  and  others 
condemned  to  death  in  the  war,  —  by  saving,  at  no  small  ex- 
pense of  care  and  toil,  the  life  of  a  wretched  drunkard.  He 
was  not  only  temperate,  but  practised  total  abstinence  from 
intoxicating  drinks  from  his  childhood  and  early  youth. 
"  No  stimulant  ever  entered  his  lips,  no  profanity  ever  came 
from  them  which  defiled  the  man."  Among  the  earliest  in- 
cidents in  the  life  of  the  full-grown  man,  we  find  him  whip- 
ing  a  bully  for  insulting  ladies  in  the  store,  and  see  him, 
when  out  of  the  store,  lying  on  a  trundle-bed,  reading  and 
studying,  and  at  the  same  time  helping  his  landlady  by 
rocking  the  cradle  with  his  foot.  "  It  was  while  he  was  per- 
forming the  duties  of  the  store  that  he  acquired  the  sobri- 
quet of  'Honest  Abe,' — a  characterization  that  he  never 
dishonored,  and  an  abbreviation  that  he  never  outgrew." 
Loyal  to  his  convictions  ;  ambitious,  yet  taking  his  position 
with  the  minority  in  a  State  overwhelmingly  democratic  ; 
honest,  not  because  he  thought  honesty  was  "  tlie  best 
policy,"  but  because  honesty  was  "  the  natural  way  of  liv- 
ing"; childlike,  incapable  of  uttering  a  falsehood;  "he 
loved  all,  was  kind  to  all ;  was  without  a  vice,  appetite  or 
passion ;  was  truthful,  was  simple,  was  unselfish,  was  relig- 
ious, believed  in  the   power   and  ultimate   triumph  of  the 


206  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

right,  through  his  belief  in  God  " ;  such  is  the  description, 
greatly  abridged  and  condensed,  which  Dr.  Holland  gives  of 
him,  as  he  was  about  to  enter  upon  public  life.  And  lest  it 
should  be  regarded  as  extravagant,  he  adds :  "  If  this  brief 
statement  of  his  qualities  and  powers  represents  a  wonder- 
fully perfect  character,  so  strangely  pure  and  noble  that  it 
seems  like  the  sketch  of  an  enthusiast,  it  is  not  the  writer's 
fault.  Its  materials  are  drawn  from  the  lips  of  old  friends, 
who  speak  of  him  with  tears,  who  loved  him  then  as  if  he 
were  a  brother,  and  who  worship  his  memory  with  fond 
idolatry." 

As  a  lawyer,  his  marked  characteristic,  more  remarkable 
even  than  his  homely  illustrations  and  his  irresistible  argu- 
ments, was  his  unwillingness,  his  seeming  incapacity,  to  ad- 
vocate what  he  deemed  the  wrong  side,  or  a  bad  cause.  He 
usually  refused  to  undertake  such  cases,  and  if  he  ever  found 
himself  deceived  or  mistaken  in  regard  to  the  justice  of  his 
client's  cause,  the  moment  he  discovered  the  truth,  all  his 
interest  in  it  ceased,  and  he  was  shorn  of  his  power.  On  the 
other  hand,  he  was  the  only  distinguished  lawyer  in  the  State 
who  would  consent  to  be  the  advocate  of  the  fugitive  slave. 
Yet  he  had  more  business  than  any  other  lawyer  in  his  sec- 
tion ;  and  his  advocacy  of  a  cause,  of  course,  soon  came  to 
be  the  proof  of  its  righteousness,  and  the  pledge  of  its  suc- 
cess. And  he  was  just  as  incapable  of  seeing  any  creature 
suffer  that  he  could  relieve,  as  he  was  of  being  a  party  to  any 
injustice,  as  is  illustrated  by  the  story  of  the  pig  that  he  and 
a  party  of  other  lawyers,  in  one  of  their  circuits,  left  sinking 
in  the  mire ;  but  after  riding  on  two  or  three  miles,  he  went 
back  and  rescued  the  pig,  though  almost  to  the  ruin  of  a  new 
suit  of  clothes. 

In  his  first  candidacy  for  the  Legislature,  he  was  unsuc- 
cessful. Elected  by  a  large  vote  in  his  second,  during  his 
first  session  he  said  little  and  learned  much.  Re-elected  to 
the  next  Legislature,  he  encounters  Mr.  Douglas  for  the  first 
time,  and,  with  one  other  member,  enters  his  j  irotest  against 


PRESIDENT   LINCOLN.  207 

some  extreme  pro-slaverj  resolutions,  ■which  were  passed  for 
the  express  purpose  of  fixing  the  stigma  of  xVbolitionism  upon 
all  who  did  not  indorse  them.  His  career  as  a  member  of 
the  House  of  Representatives  in  Congress  was  marked  by 
uncompromising,  though  wise  and  discriminating,  hostility  to 
the  Mexican  War.  Nominated  as  the  Republican  candidate 
for  the  United  States  Senate  in  opposition  to  Judge  Douglas,  lie 
put,  in  the  very  foreground  of  his  first  speech  in  that  famous 
political  canvass  (and  insisted  on  keeping  them  there  in  spite 
of  the  politic  remonstrances  of  his  friends),  those  memorable 
words :  "  A  house  divided  against  itself  cannot  sl^nd.  T 
believe  this  government  cannot  endure  permanently  half 
slave  and  half  free.  I  do  not  expect  the  Union  to  be  dis- 
solved,—  I  do  not  expect  the  house  to  fall ;  but  I  do  expect 
it  will  cease  to  be  divided."  He  failed  of  the  Senatorship, 
but  his  failure  made  him  President  of  the  United  States. 
This  is  one  of  the  great  lessons  of  Mr.  Lincoln's  life.  He 
failed  at  first  in  many,  yes,  in  most,  of  his  aspirations.  At 
the  close  of  the  canvass  for  the  Senatorship,  his  life  seemed  a 
failure,  and  tliat  of  Mr.  Douglas  a  splendid  success ;  but  he 
clung  to  the  .right,  he  persevered,  and  triumphed  in  the  end. 
The  sequel  is  known  to  the  country  and  the  world  ;  but  these 
earlier  antecedents  were  not  generally  known  at  the  East. 
If  they  had  been,  the  friends  of  liberty  and  humanity  would 
not  have  been  so  displeased  at  his  nomination,  nor  so  anxious 
in  many  a  great  crisis  of  the  war.  If  they  had  known  the 
man,  when  they  were  so  impatient  for  the  act  of  emancipa- 
tion, they  would  have  understood  that,  so  far  from  being  re- 
luctant to  issue  it,  he  was  waiting  and  longing  for  tlie  time 
to  come  when  he  could  issue  it  consistently  with  his  oath  of 
office  and  with  the  necessary  unanimity  on  the  part  of  the 
people,  and  so  make  it,  as  it  was,  the  finishing  stroke  of  the 
war,  and  the  glory  of  his  administration.  I  wish  the  conver- 
sation on  religious  topics  between  Mr.  Lincoln  and  Mr.  Batc- 
man,  in  the  sixteenth  chapter  of  Doctor  Holland's  Life  (in 
the  following  pages),  might  be  read  along  with  President  Lin- 
coln's last  inaugural.     It  would  thus  be  seen  that  that  inau. 


208  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

gural,  prophetic  and  almost  inspired  as  it  seemed  to  be,  was 
not  a  sudden  inspiration,  but  was  in  a  course  of  providential 
preparation  even  before  Mr.  Lincoln's  election  to  the  Presi- 
dency. 

It  was  my  purpose  to  allude  to  those  special  seasons  of  deep 
and  personal  religious  experience,  as,  for  instance,  in  connec- 
tion with  the  death  of  his  son  "Willy  and  with  the  battle  at 
Gettysburg ;  also  to  the  evidence  of  his  habit  of  reading  the 
Scriptures  and  prayer  in  the  closet,  all  of  which  are  brought 
out  so  unequivocally  in  Doctor  Holland's  Life  and  Mr.  Car- 
penter's#  Reminiscences  ;  but  I  have  already  exceeded  my 
limits.  Yet  I  cannot  refrain  from  copying  that  last  sentence 
in  a  letter  of  Mr.  Lincoln  to  General  Wadsworth,  which  ex- 
presses so  clearly  the  views  of  the  late  President  on  the  great 
question  of  reconstruction,  and  shows  how  little  reason  the 
present  incumbent  has  to  claim  that  he  is  following  in  the 
footsteps  of  his  lamented  predecessor :  "  Since  you  know  my 
private  inclinations  as  to  what  terms  should  be  granted  to  the 
South,  in  the  contingency  mentioned,  I  will  here  add,  that,  if 
our  success  should  be  thus  realized  (complete  success) ,  fol- 
lowed by  such  desired  results  (loyal  and  cheerful  submission), 
J  cannot  see,  if  U7iiversal  amnesty  is  granted,  Tiow,  under  the 
circumstances,  I  can  avoid  exacting,  in  return,  universal  suf- 
frage, or,  at  least,  suffrage  on  the  basis  of  intelligence  and  mili- 
tary service." 


A  TALK   WITH  PRESIDENT  LINCOLN. 

I  HAVE  been  urged  to  write  out  in  full  —  from  memoranda 
made  at  the  time  —  a  conversation  had  with  President 
Lincoln,  in  September,  1864,  of  which  some  fragmentary  anec- 
dotes have  already  been  made  public.  Now  that  the  political 
issues  that  gave  point  to  some  of  the  President's  remarks  are 
all  settled,  there  can  be  no  objection  to  reporting  them  in  de- 
tail, as  illustrating  the  salient  points  of  his  character. 


A   TALK   WITH  PRESIDENT   LINCOLN.  209 

On  the  6th  of  September,  1864,  Mr.  Secretary  Dana  of  the 
War  Office  did  me  the  favor  to  accompany  me  to  the  White 
House,  —  where  he  had  the  entree  of  the  President's  private 
office,  —  and  we  were  at  once  ushered  into  Mr.  Lincohi's 
presence.  He  was  alone,  sitting  at  a  table  covered  with  doc- 
uments which  he  had  been  studying  with  care.  At  his  side 
stood  a  basket  of  fine  peaches  to  which  he  had  evidently  de- 
voted his  leisure  moments,  but  without  any  visible  accessories 
of  knife  and  plate.  After  the  usual  salutations,  congratulat- 
ing him  upon  the  capture  of  Atlanta,  I  spoke  of  the  pleasure 
with  which  his  proclamation  for  a  Thanksgiving  on  the 
approaching  Sabbath  would  be  regarded. 

"  I  would  be  glad  to  give  you  such  a  proclamation  every 
Sunday  for  a  few  weeks  to  come,"  was  his  quick  reply. 

"The  victory  at  Atlanta,"  it  was  remarked,  "has  wiped 
out  one  half  of  the  Chicago  platform,  and  if  General  Grant 
will  give  us  Petersburg,  that  will  wipe  out  the  other,  and  we 
shall  simply  go  through  the  form  of  re-electing  you,  Mr. 
President,  by  acclamation." 

Mr.  Dana  interposed  that  he  thought  the  reviving  of  Union 
feeling  was  due  quite  as  much  to  the  platform  itself  as  to  the 
victory. 

"  I  guess,"  said  the  President,  "  it  is  more  due  to  the  vic- 
tory.    At  any  rate  that  will  better  bear  repetition.''^ 

General  McClellan  had  not  yet  signified  his  acceptance  of 
the  Chicago  nomination,  and  I  observed  that  he  seemed  about 
as  slow  in  getting  upon  the  platform  as  he  was  in  taking 
Richmond. 

"  I  think  he  must  be  intrenching,^^  said  the  President,  with 
a  marvellous  brightening  of  his  eye. 

"  It  was  rumored  in  New  York  that  the  General  would 
decline  the  nomination  upon  that  platform." 

"  Well,"  replied  Mr.  Lincoln,  "  he  does  n't  know  yet 
whether  he  will  accept  or  decline.  And  he  never  will  know. 
Somebody  must  do  it  for  him.  For  of  all  the  men  I  liave  had 
to  do  with  in  my  life,  indecisioyi  is  most  strongly  marked  in 

14 


210  .  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

General  McClellan  ;  —  if  that  can  he  said  to  he  strong  which  is 
the  essence  of  weakness. ^^ 

This  was  said  with  his  head  leaning  forward  in  his  charac- 
teristic way,  as  if  he  would  thrust  his  face  into  yours ;  but 
trenchant  as  was  the  sarcasm,  there  was  no  maliciousness  in 
his  tone,  no  trace  of  personal  rivalry  or  animosity.  It  was 
the  iitterance  of  a  deliberate  judgment. 

Mr.  Dana  announced  to  him  the  news  of  John  Morgan's 
death.  "  Is  that  so  ?  "  he  exclaimed  ;  then  turning  to  me  as 
if  he  would  recognize  my  calling,  he  added,  "  I  would  n't 
crow  over  anybody's  death,  but  I  assure  you  that  I  take  this 
as  resignedly  as  I  could  take  any  dispensation  of  Providence. 
This  Morgan  was  a  nigger-driver.  You  Northern  men  don't 
know  anything  about  such  low,  mean,  cowardly  creatures. 
Southern  slaveholders  despise  them.  But  such  a  wretch  has 
been  used  to  carry  on  their  rebellion."  There  was  a  startling 
earnestness  in  the  emphasis  with  which  he  uttered  these 
words. 

A-t  this  point  the  janitor  entered  and  announced  that  a 
lady  at  the  door  wished  to  know  his  decision  in  a  certain 
case. 

"  Tell  her,"  said  Mr.  Lincoln,  slowly,  "  that  I  shall  do 
nothing  about  it." 

The  janitor  hesitated,  and  asked,  "  Need  I  say  just  that  to 
her  ?  She  is  terribly  distressed.  Can't  I  say,  sir,  that  you 
are  still  considering  it  ?  " 

"  Well,  if  you  choose  ;  but  I  shall  not  interfere."  Then, 
turning  to  the  pile  of  papers  before  him,  lie  remarked  to  us, 
"  Here  is  the  case  of  a  man  condemned  by  a  court-martial  for 
bounty-jumping,  desertion,  and  inducing  others  to  desert.  It 
is  a  \QYY  clear  case ;  and  as  the  officers  say  that  pardons 
relax  all  discipline,  I  suppose  I  must  not  interfere." 

He  had  been  studying  all  the  morning  lo  find  some  flaw  in 
the  evidence  upon  which  he  might  annul  the  sentence,  and 
at  the  last,  in  his  conflict  between  justice  and  compassion,  he 
v/as  almost  unmanned  by  the  report  of  a  woman  weeping  at 
the  door. 


A   TALK   WITH   PRESIDENT   LINCOLN.  211 

The  conversation  turned  upon  the  pending  election,  and  I 
told  the  story,  already  published  in  your  columns,  of  the 
Irishman  at  Resaca,  who  gave  me  his  philosophy  of  the  Presi- 
dential contest,  "  It  was  n't  myself  that  made  Mr.  Lincoln 
President ;  but  these  rascals  down  here  said  he  should  n't  be 
President,  and  I  'm  bound  to  fight  till  he  is  ;  and  sure  I  think 
the  jointilman  that  begun  the  job  is  the  one  to  go  through 
with  it.''^ 

Mr.  Lincoln  laughed  heartily,  and  said,  "  I  am  glad  to 
know  that  any  Irishman  is  going  to  vote  for  me,  and  es- 
pecially for  such  discriminating  reasons." 

He  spoke  with  unaffected  simplicity  of  his  desire  to  carry 
out  his  policy  through  a  re-election ;  and  in  the  course  of  a 
conversation  upon  the  prospects  of  the  campaign,  mention 
was  made  of  the  unanimity  of  the  religious  sentiment  of  the 
country  for  himself,  when  he  remarked  that  he  relied  very 
much  upon  tho  religious  element  for  the  support  of  his  ad- 
ministration. 

I  named  several  prominent  ministers  who  were  exerting 
their  influence  to  secure  his  re-election  ;  among  them.  Dr. 
Bacon  of  New  Haven. 

"  Bacon,"  he  repeated,  as  if  trying  to  recall  something, 
"  let  me  see ;  what  do  I  know  of  him  ?  Did  n't  he  once 
write  a  book  on  slavery,  which  some  of  the  Abolitionists  did 
not  altogether  agree  with  ?  " 

I  answered  in  the  affirmative.  "  Well,"  he  continued, 
"  I  read  that  book  some  years  ago,  and  at  first  did  not 
exactly  know  what  to  make  of  it ;  but  afterwards  I  read  it 
over  more  carefully,  and  got  hold  of  Dr.  Bacon's  distinctions, 
and  it  had  much  to  do  in  shaping  my  own  thinking  on  the 
subject  of  slavery.     He  is  quite  a  man." 

In  the  course  of  some  further  talk  on  slavery,  I  drew  the 
distinction  between  the  "  domiciliary  imprisonment"  or  sub- 
jection of  captives  and  paupers,  allowed  by  the  Mosaic  law, 
and  chattel  slavery.  Admitting  tliat  this  would  greatly  re- 
lieve  the   question  of  Hebrew  servitude,  the   Prct^idont  ro- 


212  .  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

marked,  "  However,  I  have  sometimes  thought  that  Moses 
didnH  quite  understand  the  Lord  along  thereP 

The  crhne  of  attempted  revolution  against  a  free  govern- 
ment occupied  tlie  few  remaining  moments  of  this  most  re- 
freshing interview.  It  was  pleasant  to  know  that  the  Presi- 
dent was  awake  to  the  discussion  of  principles  upon  every 
subject  evolved  by  the  war. 

I  can  give  no  description  of  the  brilliancy  of  his  repartees, 
the  readiness  of  his  wit,  the  affability  of  his  manners,  the 
frankness  of  his  soul.  As  I  felt  again  the  cordial  grasp  of 
his  hand,  I  looked  for  the  last  time  into  those  gentle,  loving, 
and  most  magnetic  eyes. 


HEARKEN,    LITTLE    ONE! 

HEARKEN,  little  one ! 
Lo !  a  voice  is  calling  thee 
From  the  blue  of  morning  skies  ! 
Hear  it,  and  the  glory  see 
Beaming  for  thy  lifted  eyes ! 

Courage,  little  one ! 
Not  a  tear  thine  eye  should  dim, 

Not  a  fear  give  wild  alarms ; 
Jesus  bids  you  come  to  him. 

Now  he  waits  with  open  arms ! 

Hasten,  little  one ! 
Run  to  him  with  nimble  feet. 

Go,  and  feel  his  soft  caress, 
Warm  the  welcome  thou  shalt  meet ; 

See  !  he  lifts  his  hands  to  bless  ! 

Trust  him,  little  one  ! 
He  will  never  leave  his  own, 

Never  let  them  suffer  harm  ; 
All  the  way  to  him  is  known, 

Strong  is  his  encircling  arm! 


ELEANOR'S   STORY.  213 

Love  him,  little  one  ! 
He  will  fold  thee  to  his  breast, 

Love  thee  with  a  tender  love  ! 
He  will  give  thee  blissful  rest 

In  his  shininor  home  above ! 


ELEANOR'S    STORY. 

PAPA  says  I  am  a  strange  girl,  because  I  want  to  write  a 
story ;  but  at  the  same  time  he  patted  me  lovingly  on 
my  head,  and  said,  "  You  may  write  a  story  if  you  can,  Elea- 
nor," so  I  am  going  to  try. 

I  wonder  why  it  is  that  people  call  me  strange  !  If  I  only 
had  another  name !  Eleanor  sounds  so  old.  Other  little  girls 
have  pretty,  childish  names,  such  as  Bessie,  Luly,  or  Katie ; 
but  I  don't  know  any  little  girls  by  the  name  of  Eleanor. 
However,  papa  says  that  he  thinks  Eleanor  is  the  sweetest 
of  all  names  (it  was  my  dear  mamma's  name),  so  I  try  to 
be  contented  with  it. 

I  suppose  too,  that  I  am  not  like  other  little  girls,  for  I  am 
not  able  to  go  to  school,  or  to  run  and  play  as  they  do.  Mrs. 
Green  says  it  is  because  I  am  delicate.  So  I  stay  at  home 
with  papa,  —  there  are  only  papa  and  I  and  Mrs.  Green,  the 
housekeeper,  and  Rosy,  the  cook,  —  and  papa  teaches  me  les- 
sons, and  lets  me  read  his  books,  and  takes  me  to  make  calls 
with  him  sometimes  (he  is  a  clergyman),  and  we  have  very 
nice  times  together,  only  I  wish  I  had  a  little  sister  to  play 
with ;  but  papa  plays  checkers,  and  give-away,  and  points  with 
me,  and  Mrs.  Green  makes  me  gingerbread  dogs,  so  I  ought 
to  be  very  happy. 

But  I  must  tell  my  story.     It  is  entitled  : 

HOW  I  BECAME  DELICATE. 

Before  I  was  delicate,  when  I  was  about  six  years  old,  I 
went  to  school,  just  as  other  children  did.     0,  it  was  such  a 


214  HOUSEHOLD  EEADING. 

pleasant  place !  It  was  a  private  school.  There  were  little 
girls  and  boys  of  all  ages  there.  The  older  scholars  had 
desks,  but  the  younger  scholars  had  little  chairs  to  sit  in 
They  were  low  chairs  with  arms,  and  thoy  had  shelves  under- 
neath to  put  our  books  on.  They  were  our  own,  too.  Papa 
bought  mine  for  me.  It  was  a  most  beautiful  lilac  color, 
and  there  were  roses  and  lilies  painted  on  it.  I  used  to  feel 
very  proud  and  happy  when  I  sat  in  my  lilac-colored  chair,  or 
took  my  primer  or  slate  from  the  shelf  underneath.  0,  I 
never  shall  forget  it ! 

Meta  Reed  lived  in  the  next  house  to  ours  then,  —  she  has 
moved  away  now,  —  and  I  used  to  go  and  call  for  her  every 
day,  and  we  went  to  school  together.  But  one  day  when  I 
called  for  her,  her  mamma  told  me  she  was  ill,  so  I  had  to 
go  to  school  alone. 

I  did  not  feel  at  all  afraid,  but  walked  quietly  along,  and 
had  got  almost  to  the  school-house,  when  I  met  one  of  the 
scholars  by  the  name  of  Charlie  Vane. 

"  Hold  on,  Eleanor,"  said  he. 

"  Hold  on,  Charlie,"  said  I ;  "  are  n't  you  going  to  school  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  he,  "  I  am  going  to  fire  off  some  crackers ;  don't 
vou  want  one  ?  " 

"  0,  no  indeed  !  "  said  I. 

I  was  very  much  afraid  of  fire-crackers ;  so  I  began  to 
walk  along  toward  the  school-house,  but  Charlie  ran  after 
me. 

"  Stop  a  minute,  Eleanor,"  said  he.  So  I  stopped.  "  Now," 
said  he,  running  in  front  of  me,  and  holding  out  both  arms, 
"  you  sha'n't  go  by  till  you  have  fired  off  a  cracker." 

"  0  yes,  but  I  must,"  said  I.     "  I  shall  be  late  to  school." 

So  I  tried  to  get  by  one  side,  but  he  ran  and  stood  in  front 
of  me ;  then  I  went  to  the  other  side,  but  he  ran  the  other 
side  too,  —  Mrs.  Green  says  he  dodged,  —  so  I  couldn't  get 
by,  and  I  did  n't  know  "\^hat  to  do. 

"You  must  fire  a  cracker,"  said  Charlie. 

"  I  can't,"  said  I. 


ELEANOR'S   STORY.  215 

"  You  must,"  said  he  ;  "  I  will  show  you  how." 

"  But  I  s7ia'?z'^,"  said  I,  for  I  was  very  angry. 

"  Then,"  said  Charlie,  "  you  are  a  cross  girl,  and  I  will  firo 
off  all  the  crackers  right  here  at  your  feet,  and  I  shall  hold 
you  so  you  can't  get  away." 

"  0  dear !  "  said  I,  beginning  to  cry  ;  but  he  held  fast  hold 
of  me  with  one  hand,  and  with  the  other  he  put  the  crackers 
on  the  ground.  Then  he  took  out  a  match  and  lighted  it  and 
set  fire  to  the  crackers.  I  cried  as  loud  as  1  could,  hoping 
some  one  would  hear  and  come  to  me,  but  nobody  did,  and 
soon  the  crackers  went  off  right  at  my  feet.  I  was  so  very 
much  frightened  that  I  grew  very  strong,  and  so,  making  a 
great  effort,  I  got  away  from  Charlie  and  ran  away  very  fast. 
He  ran  after  me  a  little  way,  but  I  ran  very  fast,  and  he  soon 
stopped. 

All  at  once  I  grew  very  hot,  and  looking  down  I  saw  that 
my  dress  was  on  fire.  0,  how  frightened  I  was  !  I  stood 
perfectly  still  and  began  to  scream.  I  was  only  six  years 
old,  or  I  should  have  known  better.  Mrs.  Green  says,  you 
should  wrap  yourself  in  something  woollen,  and  I  had  on 
quite  a  large  shawl  that  I  might  have  wrapped  around  me, 
but  I  did  n't  know  as  much  then  as  I  do  now ;  so,  as  I  said 
before,  I  stood  still  and  screamed. 

Just  then  a  great  black  man  came  along.  Now  I  was  very 
much  afraid  of  black  men  ;  so  when  he  said,  "  Why,  the  poor 
little  lamb !  "  and  came  close  up  to  me,  I  was  so  frightened 
that  I  began  to  run  again  ;  but  my  clothes  were  burning  so 
that  I  could  n't  run  very  well,  and  so  this  black  man,  who 
was  a  very,  very  kind  man,  soon  caught  up  with  me.  He 
took  me  right  in  his  arms,  while  I  screamed  with  terror, 
and  carried  me  to  a  pump  near  by  and  pumped  water  on  me 
till  the  fire  was  all  put  out ;  though  I  fainted,  from,  pain  and 
fright,  before  he  reached  the  pump.  But  the  water  revived 
me,  so  that  when  the  man  asked  me  where  I  lived,  I  could 
tell  him.  Then  he  carried  me  home,  just  as  gently  as  papa 
could  have  carried  me.    I  Aave  always  loved  him  ever  since 


216  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

His  name  is  James  Thomas,  and  he  has  a  wife  and  two  little 
children.     Papa  takes  me  to  see  them  whenever  he  can. 

But  when  Mr.  Thomas  got  to  the  house,  I  was  senseless  ; 
and  I  did  not  know  papa,  or  Mrs.  Green,  or  anybody,  for  two 
whole  weeks  ;  and  after  I  came  to  my  senses,  I  was  ill  for  a 
long  time. 

And  Mrs.  Green  says  I  have  been  delicate  ever  since. 

P.  S.  —  Papa  says  it  is  not  proper  to  add  a  postscript  to  a 
story ;  but  I  just  want  to  say  that  Charlie  Vane  was  real 
sorry  when  he  foimd  out  that  I  was  burned  so  badly,  and  he 
has  been  very  kind  to  me  ever  since.  He  gives  me  presents 
every  Christmas  and  on  my  birthdays,  and  he  comes  to  see 
me,  too,  though  at  first  I  would  n't  see  him,  and  would  n't 
forgive  him.  But  now  I  have  entirely  forgiven  him  ;  for 
papa  says  I  have  grieved  Jesus  Christ  more  than  Charlie 
grieved  me,  and  that  Jesus  died  for  me,  and  forgives  me  all 
my  sins,  too ;  so  I  'm  sure  I  ought  to  forgive  Charlie,  for  he 
only  grieved  me  once,  and  I  never  died  for  him  either. 


YAIN    THOUGHTS. 

THOSE  are  vain  thoughts  that  are  indulged  without  aim 
or  control.  The  minds  of  the  best  of  men  will  some- 
times wander  like  the  eyes  of  the  fool.  The  thoughts  of  the 
giddy  mass  go  like  the  wind,  without  order  or  design.  They 
light  upon  a  project  here,  and  a  phantom  there,  and  thus 
shoot  away  as  the  dazzling  sunbeam  is  reflected  from  the 
agitated  water.  Many  entire  lives  are  spent  thus  without 
oixler,  plan,  or  aim.  The  vainness  of  such  thoughts  consist 
not  in  the  positive  evil  so  much  as  the  want  of  good.  They 
consume  time,  waste  immortal  energies,  and  keep  lis  busy 
for  naught. 

Those  are  vain  thoughts  which  are  exercised  in  gratifving 


VAIN  THOUGHTS. 


21T: 


our  vanity  and  pride.  A  large  proportion  of  the  mental 
energies  of  mankind  is  spent  in  burning  incense  to  their 
\own  self-esteem. 

Those  are  vain  thoughts  which  meditate  harm  to  others. 

)r  vain,  in  the  Scriptural  sense,  means  wicked  as  well  as 
foUish.  It  includes  all  those  unlawful  schemes  which  de- 
visV  deceit,  which  would  mislead  by  fair  promises  and  vain 
shoVs. 

Tl^ose  thoughts  are  vain  which  are  hostile  to  religion. 
Wha\  an  amount  of  such  thinking  there  is  in  the  world ! 
To  saV  nothing  of  blasphemous  thoughts,  nothing  of  the 
writings  of  infidels,  nothing  of  sceptical  objections,  there  is 
much  Aain  thinking  by  nominal  Christians.  How  much 
effort  toVipologize  for  neglect,  to  find  some  ease  for  a  twing- 
ing cons(\ence  ?  How  many  think  to  old  age,  and  grow  no 
wiser  on  \iie  subject  of  personal  religion  ?  Their  thoughts 
move  in  a  Circle,  and  so  result  in  nothing  salutary  to  the  soul. 

Wliat,  n(W,  is  the  remedy  for  such  thoughts  ?  Thoughts, 
like  everytling  else  in  the  universe,  are  subject  to  law. 
They  come  Mo  being  by  law,  and  they  are  controlled  by 
law.  To  discttver  and  obey  that  law  is  to  cure  the  evil.  So 
far  as  loose  am  trifling  thoughts  are  concerned,  an  efficient 
remedy  is  to  occupy  the  mind  with  something  better.  When 
the  bushel  is  filled  with  wheat,  the  chaff  cannot  enter.  The 
man  who  has  \  pressure  of  important  business  on  hand 
5  thoughts.  No  general  on  the  evening 
before  a  great  bat\le  was  ever  troubled  with  trifling  thoughts. 
Girard  or  Astor  nWer  had  wandering  thoughts  when  a  pro- 
ject involving  milions  was  under  consideration.  Engage, 
then,  in  some  interWing  and  profitable  pursuit.  Stir  up  a 
deep  emotion  in  tha  soul,  and  you  swallow  up  in  it  every 
petty  interest  and  sdicitude,  on  the  same  principle  that  a 
physician  at  times  apUies  a  counter  irritant  on  the  surface 
of  the  body  to  draw  thV  humors  away  from  the  vitals. 

The  remedy  for  wick\d  thoughts  may  be  sought  in  watch- 
fulness and  prayer,  andVhe  active  perform-mce  of  duty,  and 


218  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

reliance  upon  the  indwelling  Spirit,  with  the  consideration 
that  God  will  bring  every  thought  into  judgment.  And 
though  the  seat  of  that  tribunal  be  far  down  the  future,  it  is 
certain  to  come,  at  last.  Let  it  be  remembered,  that  the  iror 
pen  records  every  desire  of  the  heart ;  and  though  the  mini 
has  no  knowledge  of  it,  God  will  one  day  declare  it. 

Vain  thoughts  leave  a  sting  behind.  When  God  made  -he 
inind,  he  made  it  for  virtuous  emotions,  to  be  happy  in  the 
indulgence  of  right  feelings,  and  to  be  miserable  when  it 
indulges  any  other.  Hence  every  man,  when  he  adaits  a 
wrong  desire  into  his  bosom,  admits  a  serpent  to  feed  ->n  his 
vitals.  He  brings  a  wolf  into  his  peaceful  fold  to  hariss  and 
wound  the  flock.  His  own  thoughts  become  his  clastiser. 
They  pierce  him  with  barbed  arrows.  Every  shaft  h(  lets  fly 
comes  back  and  lodges  in  his  own  heart. 


SPEAK    ABOUT    CHRIST: 

A  YOUNG  Christian  writes  us,  begging  iiat  we  say  a 
few  words  to  older  Christians  in  refereice  to  the  duty 
named  above.  He  says  that  young  converts  jften  hear  their 
older  brethren  say  to  them,  "  Be  more  faithfiu  ;  take  a  higher 
stand  on  the  Lord's  side  than  we  have  CTcr  done."  And 
young  Christians  sometimes  feel  like  saying  something,  in 
kind  reply,  like  this :  "  When  you  meet  those  whom  you 
know  have  recently  become  interested  in  t\e  things  of  Christ, 
make  it  a  point  to  say  something  to  them  about  their  religion 
and  their  Saviour,  —  for  they  are  always  glad  to  be  addressed 
thus,  and  they  need  to  be." 

There  is  much  in  the  suggestion,  and  there  is  reason  for  it. 
Young  converts  need  the  experience  of  older  Christians ;  and 
if  those  who  have  that  experience  ire  ready  to  impart  it 
freely,  an  immense  amount  of  valuaUe  instruction  may  thus 


SPEAK  ABOUT   CHRIST.  219 

be  communicated,  while  this  giving  doth  not  impoverish. 
Those  who  have  been  long  walking  in  the  path  toward 
heaven ;  so  long  that  they  have  forgotten  the  sensations  of 
their  first  entrance  upon  it,  are  hardly  aware  how  great,  some- 
times, is  the  disappointment,  when  they  meet  with  young 
converts,  and  do  not  seem  to  recognize  the  fact  that  they  are 
young  converts,  or  care  anything  about  it ;  and  say  nothing 
upon  the  subject  of  religion  at  all. 

Those  whose  hearts  are  saturated  with  the  joy  of  their  first 
love  expect  older  Christians  to  speak  to  them  of  the  things 
of  the  kingdom,  and  when  they  fail  to  do  so,  and  seem  them- 
selves to  be  so  full  of  care  and  thought  for  other  things,  that 
they  cannot  say  one  word  for  Christ,  the  effect  is  most  dis- 
heartening upon  the  young  Christian.  He  begins  to  inquire 
whether  he  is  not  thinking  too  much  about  his  Saviour,  and 
making  too  much  of  the  importance  of  salvation,  and  of  the 
whole  matter  of  religion.  He  remembers  all  that  he  has 
heard  about  "  youthful  impetuosity,"  and  begins  to  inquire 
whether  he  may  not  be  going  altogether  too  fast  and  too  far 
in  his  new  experiences,  and  whether  he  would  not  be  wiser 
to  drop  into  the  more  quiet  and  apathetic  posture  of  those 
whom  he  sees  around  him,  "  having  a  name  to  live." 

Nothing  is  more  excruciating  to  the  young  heart  that  has 
ventured  all  upon  Christ,  and  feels  itself  committed  always  to 
"  stand  up  for  Jesus,"  than  the  cold  blast  that  sweeps  in  upon 
it  whenever  the  door  of  the  church  is  opened,  —  to  let  only 
the  frosty  and  benumbing  atmosphere  of  spiritual  winter 
strike  upon  the  warm  buds  and  opening  blossoms  of  its  own 
new  faith.  He  dare  not  decide  that  all  these  older  Chris- 
tians —  so  strangely  cold  and  silent  and  worldly  —  are  not 
real  disciples  ;  for  then  where  are  Christ's  followers  ?  He  dare 
not  set  up  his  feeble  and  faltering  first  consciousness  of  what 
is  right  and  edifying  and  really  Christian,  against  their 
deeper  study  of  the  Bible,  and  maturer  knowledge  of  all 
Christian  facts.  He  dare  not  give  up  his  own  convictions, 
that  all  that  he  is,  and  every  possibility  of  all  that  he  can  be, 


220  HOUSEHOLD  BEADING. 

has  been  honestly  made  over  unto  Christ,  so  that  he  is  bound 
to  talk  of  him  in  the  house,  and  by  the  way,  and  when  he  sits 
down,  and  when  he  rises  up.  But  he  cannot  reconcile  his 
own  feelings  of  duty  with  his  observations  of  the  perform- 
ance of  duty  by  others,  who,  if  anybody,  ought  to  know  what 
duty  is,  and  how  it  ought  to  be  performed.  So  he  is  troubled, 
—  sometimes  so  troubled  that  he  cannot  speak. 

Relieve  him,  Christian  !  Speak  to  him  about  Christ !  Speak 
to  everybody  about  Christ !  The  world  needs  to  be  converted 
to  him,  and  the  Church  needs  to  be  confirmed  in  him.  Take 
away  this  reproach.  Let  it  be  seen  that  you  do  love  him  bet- 
ter and  think  of  him  more,  than  of  anything  else.  Speak 
about  Christ! 


LOSING    AND    LIVING. 

FOREVER  the  sun  is  pouring  his  gold 
On  a  hundred  worlds  that  beg  and  borrow ; 
His  warmth  he  squanders  on  summits  oold, 

His  wealth  on  the  homes  of  want  and  sorrow. 
To  withhold  his  largess  of  precious  light 
Is  to  bury  himself  in  eternal  night : 
To  give 
Is  to  live. 

The  flower  shines  not  for  itself  at  all, 
Its  joy  is  the  joy  it  freely  diffuses ; 
Of  beauty  and  balm  it  is  prodigal, 

And  it  lives  in  the  life  it  sweetly  loses. 
No  choice  for  the  rose  but  glory  or  doom,  — 
No  exhale  or  smother,  to  wither  or  bloom : 
To  deny 
Is  to  die. 

The  sea  lends  silvery  rain  to  the  land, 

The  land  its  sapphire  streams  to  the  ocean ; 


LOSING  AND  LIVING.  221 

The  heart  sends  blood  to  the  brain  of  command, 

The  brain  to  the  heart  its  lightning  motion : 
And  ever  and  ever  we  yield  our  breath,  — 
Till  the  mirror  is  dry,  and  images  death : 

To  live 

Is  to  give. 

He  is  dead  whose  hand  is  not  opened  wide 

To  help  the  need  of  a  human  brother ; 
He  doubles  the  life  of  his  lifelong  ride 

"Who  gives  his  fortunate  place  to  another ; 
And  a  thousand  million  lives  are  his. 
Who  carries  the  world  in  his  sympathies : 
To  deny 
Is  to  die. 

Throw  gold  to  the  far-dispersing  wave. 

And  your  ships  sail  home  with  tons  of  treasure; 
Care  not  for  comfort,  all  hardship  brave, 

And  ev'ning  and  age  shall  sup  with  pleasure  ; 
Fling  health  to  the  sunshine,  wind,  and  rain. 
And  roses  shall  come  to  the  cheek  again : 
To  give 
Is  to  live. 

What  is  our  life  ?    Is  it  wealth  and  strength  ? 

If  we  for  the  Master's  sake  will  lose  it. 
We  shall  find  it  a  hundred-fold,  at  length, 

While  they  shall  forever  lose  who  refuse  it ; 
And  nations  that  save  their  union  and  peace 
At  the  cost  of  right,  their  woe  shall  increase : 
They  save 
A  grave. 


222  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

"NOT  LOST,  BUT  GONE  BEFORE." 

A   PARABLE    FROM    MRS.    GATTY. 

THE  sun  shone  softly  down  upon  the  Hillside  Cemetery, 
where  Mr.  Bell  and  his  children  were  standing  amid  the 
fresh  clover,  strewing  a  new-made  grave  with  roses  and  vio- 
lets from  their  garden.  It  was  only  a  little  mound,  and  the 
weeping  mother  sat  at  its  head  mourning  for  her  youngest 
born. 

"  Papa,"  said  Arthur,  "  where  is  heaven,  that  my  little 
brother  has  gone  to  ?  It  is  not  up  in  the  sky,  for  I  can't  see 
anything  there."  The  little  boy  looked  sorrowfully  up  into 
the  far-off  blue,  and  then  turned  to  his  father  for  a  reply. 

"  Heaven  is  not  in  sight,  Arthur,"  answered  his  father. 
"  We  cannot  tell  where  it  is.  It  might  be  very  near  without 
our  being  able  to  see  it  with  our  eyes." 

"  But,  papa,"  said  Helen,  "  if  heaven  is  near,  is  n't  it 
strange  that  Willie  cannot  just  come  back  one  minute  to  tell 
us  he  is  happy  ?  " 

"  Yes,  dear,"  said  Mr.  Bell,  "  it  is  all  strange  to  us.  We 
can  only  trust  our  Father  in  heaven  about  it,  and  wait  till  we 
go  to  him.  If  we  love  him  here,  we  shall  be  where  he  is 
hereafter,  and  with  dear  little  Willie,  too,  I  think." 

They  lingered  awhile  beside  the  precious  grave,  and  then 
turned  homeward  through  the  pleasant  cemetery  grounds. 
As  they  passed  a  little  pond  fringed  with  flowering  shrubs, 
Mr.  Bell  said  to  his  wife,  "  Anna,  let  us  sit  down  beside  this 
pond  while  I  tell  the  children  that  parable  of  Mrs.  Gatty's 
which  sister  Alice  read  to  us, — '  Not  lost,  but  gone  before.'  " 

"  0  yes,"  said  their  mother,  "  I  should  like  to  have  you." 

Mr.  Bell  placed  his  wife  upon  a  rustic  seat,  and  sat  down  b;y 
her  side,  with  Arthur  on  his  knee  and  Helen  at  his  feet. 

"  This  parable,"  said  he,  "  tries  to  teach  us  how  near  heaven 
may  be  to  earth,  and  how  the  holy  people  may  remember  us 


"NOT   LOST,    BUT    GONE   BEFORE."  223 

and  know  where  we  are,  aud  yet  not  be  able  to  return  or 
speak  to  us.     I  will  tell  you  all  I  can  remember  of  it. 

"  Once  there  was  a  beautiful  pond  in  the  centre  of  a  wood. 
Trees  and  flowers  were  growing  about  it,  birds  sang  and  in- 
sects hummed  above  it.  Under  the  water,  too,  there  was  a 
little  world  of  beings.  Fishes  and  little  creatures  that  live 
in  water  filled  it  full  of  busy  life.  Among  them  was  the  grub 
of  a  dragon-fly,  with  a  large  family  of  brothers  and  sisters." 

"  What  is  a  dragon-fly  ?  "  interrupted  Arthur. 

"  It 's  just  a  darning-needle,"  said  Helen. 

"  Yes,  you  children  call  it  a  darning-needle,"  said  their 
father ;  "  that  beautiful  swift  creature,  with  a  long  glittering 
blue-and-green  body  and  brilliant  gauzy  wings.  Now,  before 
he  became  a  dragon-fly,  darting  through  the  air  and  flashing 
back  the  sunshine,  he  was  a  dark,  scaly  grub,  and  lived  down 
in  the  forest  pond.  He  and  his  family  were  born  there  and 
knew  no  other  world.  They  spent  their  time  in  roving  in 
and  out  among  the  plants  at  the  bottom  of  the  water  in  search 
of  food. 

"  But  one  day  this  grub  began  to  talk  among  his  mates 
about  the  frog.  '  Every  little  while,'  said  he, '  the  frog  goes  to 
the  side  of  the  water  and  disappears.  What  becomes  of  him 
when  he  leaves  this  world  ?     What  can  there  be  beyond  ? ' 

"  '  You  idle  fellow,'  replied  another  grub, '  attend  to  the 
world  you  are  in  and  leave  the  "  beyond  "  to  those  that  are 
there  !  '  So  said  all  his  relations,  and  the  curious  grub  tried 
to  forget  his  questionings.  But  he  could  not  do  it ;  so  one 
day,  when  he  heard  a  heavy  splash  in  the  water  and  saw  a 
great  yellow  frog  swim  down  to  the  bottom,  he  screwed  up 
his  courage  to  ask  the  frog  himself. 

"  '  Honored  frog,'  said  he,  approaching  that  dignified  per- 
sonage as  meekly  as  possible,  '  permit  me  to  inquire  what 
there  is  beyond  the  world.' 

"  '  What  world  do  you  mean  ?  '  said  the  frog,  rolling  his 
goggle  eyes. 

"  '  This  world,  of  course  ;  our  world,'  answered  the  grub 


224  HOUSEHOLD  EEADING. 

"  '  This  pond,  you  mean,'  remarked  the  frog,  with  a  sneer. 

"  '  I  mean  the  place  we  live  in  ;  I  call  it  the  world,'  cried 
the  grub,  with  spirit. 

"  '  Do  you,  indeed  | '  rejoined  the  frog.  '  Then  what  is  the 
place  you  don't  live  in  ;  the  "  beyond  "  the  world,  eh  ?  ' 

"  '  That  is  just  what  I  want  you  to  tell  me,'  replied  the 
grub,  briskly. 

"  '  Well,  then,'  said  froggy,  '  it  is  dry  land.' 

"  '  Can  one  swim  about  there  ? '  asked  the  grub. 

"  '  Dry  land  is  not  water,  little  fellow,'  chuckled  the  frog ; 
*  that  is  just  what  it  is  not.' 

"  '  But  tell  me  what  it  is,''  persisted  the  grub. 

"  '  Well,  then,  you  troublesome  creature,'  cried  the  frog, 
'  dry  land  is  something  like  the  bottom  of  this  pond,  only  it 
is  not  wet,  because  there  is  no  water.' 

"  '  Really,'  said  the  grub,  '  what  is  there  then  ? ' 

"  '  They  call  it  air,'  replied  the  frog.  '  It  is  the  nearest  ap- 
proach to  nothing.' 

"  Finding  that  he  could  not  make  the  grub  understand,  the 
good-natured  frog  offered  to  take  him  on  his  back  up  to  the 
dry  land,  where  the  grub  might  see  for  himself.  The  grub 
was  delighted.  He  dropped  himself  down  upon  the  frog's 
back  and  clung  closely  to  him  while  he  swam  up  to  the  rushes 
at  the  water's  edge.  But  the  moment  he  emerged  into  the 
air  the  grub  fell  reeling  back  into  the  water,  panting  -and 
struggling  for  life.  '  Horrible  ! '  cried  he,  as  soon  as  he  had 
rallied  a  little ;  '  there  is  notliing  but  death  beyond  this  world. 
The  frog  deceived  me.     He  cannot  go  there,  at  any  rate ! ' 

"  Then  the  grub  told  his  story  to  his  friends,  and  they 
talked  a  great  deal  about  the  mystery,  but  could  arrive  at  no 
explanation. 

"  That  evening  the  yellow  frog  appeared  again  at  the  bot- 
tom of  the  pond. 

"  '  You  here ! '  cried  the  startled  grub.  '  You  never  left 
this  world  at  all,  I  suppose.' 

"  '  Clumsy  creature,'  replied  the  frog,  '  why  did  not  you 


W  "NOT   LOST,   BUT    GONE   BEFORE."  225 

cling  to  my  back  ?  When  I  landed  on  the  grass  you  \rere 
gone.' 

"  The  grub  related  his  deathlike  struggle,  and  added, 
•  Since  there  is  nothing  but  death  beyond  this  world,  all  your 
stories  about  going  there  must  be  false.' 

"  '  I  forgive  your  offensive  remarks,'  said  the  frog,  gravely, 
'  because  I  have  learned  to-day  the  reason  of  your  tiresome 
curiosity.  As  I  was  hopping  about  in  the  grass  on  the  edge 
of  the  pond,  I  saw  one  of  your  race  slowly  climbing  up  the 
stalk  of  a  reed.  Suddenly  there  appeared  a  rent  in  his  scaly 
coat,  and  after  many  struggles  there  came  out  of  it  one  of 
those  radiant  dragon-flies  that  float  in  the  air  I  told  you  of. 
He  lifted  his  wings  out  of  the  carcass  he  was  leaving,  and 
when  they  had  dried  in  the  sunshine  he  flew  glittering  away. 
I  conclude  that  you  grubs  will  do  the  same  thing  by  and  by.' 

"  The  grub  listened  with  astonishment  and  distrust,  and 
swam  off"  to  tell  his  friends.  They  decided  that  it  was  im- 
possible nonsense,  and  the  grub  said  he  would  think  no 
more  about  it.  He  hurried  restlessly  a])out  in  the  water, 
hunting  for  pr(  -,  and  trying  to  forget.  But  not  long  after 
he  began  to  be  .ck,  and  a  feeling  he  could  not  resist  impelled 
him  to  go  up^    .d.     He  called  to  his  relations  and  said,  — 

"  '  I  must  \  a,ve  you,  I  know  not  why.  If  the  frog's  story 
of  another  w^a-ld  is  true,  I  solemnly  promise  to  return  and 
tell  you.' 

"  His  friends  accompanied  him  to  the  water's  edge,  where 
he  vanished  from  their  sight,  for  their  eyes  were  fitted  to  see 
only  in  water.  All  day  they  watched  and  waited  for  his  re- 
turn, but  he  came  no  more. 

"  One  of  his  brothers  soon  felt  the  same  irresistible  impulse 
upward,  and  he  also  promised  the  sorrowing  family  that,  if 
he  should  indeed  be  changed  into  that  glorious  creature  of 
which  they  had  heard,  he  would  return  and  tell  them. 
'  But,'  said  one,  '  perhaps  you  might  not  be  able  to  come 
back.'  '  A  creature  so  exalted  could  certainly  do  anything,' 
replied  the  departing  grub.     But  he  also   came  not  again 

15 


226  HOUSEHOLD  EEADING.  ^ 

' He  has  forgotten  us,'  said  one.     '  He  is  dead,'  said  another; 

*  there  is  no  other  world.' 

"  And  now  a  third  brother  felt  the  same  inward  necessity 
driving  him  upward.     He  bade  his  friends  farewell,  saying, 

*  I  dare  not  promise  to  return.  If  possible  I  will ;  but  do  not 
fear  in  me  an  altered  or  a  forgetful  heart.  If  that  world 
exists,  we  may  not  understand  its  nature.' 

"  His  companions  lingered  near  the  spot  where  he  dis- 
appeared, but  there  was  neither  sign  nor  sound  of  his  re- 
turn. Only  the  dreary  sense  of  bereavement  reminded 
them  that  he  had  once  lived.  Some  feared  the  future  ;  some 
disbelieved,  some  hoped  and  looked  forward  still.  Ah,  if 
the  poor  things  could  only  have  seen  into  the  pure  air  above 
their  watery  world,  they  would  have  beheld  their  departed 
friends  often  returning  to  its  borders.  But  into  the  world 
of  waters  they  could  never  more  enter.  The  least  touch 
upon  its  surface,  as  the  dragon-fly  skimmed  over  it  with 
the  purpose  of  descending  to  his  friends,  brought  on  a  deadly 
shock,  such  as  he  had  felt  when  as  a  water-grub  he  had 
tried  to  come  upward  into  the  air.  His  new  wings  instantly 
bore  him  back. 

"  And  thus,  divided,  yet  near,  parted,  yet  united  by  love, 
he  often  hovered  about  the  barrier  that  separated  him  from 
his  early  companions,  watching  till  they,  too,  should  come 
forth  into  the  better  life.  Sweet  it  was  to  each  new-comer 
to  find  himself  not  alone  in  his  joyous  existence,  but  wel- 
comed into  it  by  those  who  had  gone  before.  Sweet  also  to 
know  that  even  in  their  ignorant  life  below,  gleams  from 
the  wings  of  the  lost  ones  they  had  lamented  were  shining 
down  into  their  dark  abode.  0,  if  they  had  known,  they 
would  neither  have  feared  nor  sorrowed  so  much !  " 

Mr.  Bell  sat  in  silence  a  few  moments  after  finishing  this 
parable,  and  then  said,  — 

"  Do  you  see,  Helen,  how  the  other  world  may  be  out  of 
our  sight  and  hearing,  though  very  real  and  near  ?  " 

"  Yes,  father,  I  do,"  replied  Helen.  "  It  makes  it  seem  as 
if  Willie  midit  be  close  beside  us." 


BROTHER   CROAKER.  227 


BROTHER    CROAKER. 

BROTHER  CROAKER  is  a  brother  whom,  having  once 
seen,  you  will  be  apt  to  remember.  His  bodily  pres- 
ence affects  your  nerves  like  a  raw,  drizzly  day  in  November. 
The  forehead  is  low  and  aslant ;  the  eyes,  closely  fitted  in 
near  the  narrow  bridge  of  the  nose,  remind  you  of  the  ex- 
pression of  a  Jewish  clothes-dealer's.  The  mouth  is  com- 
pressed into  the  firmness  and  rigidity  of  the  lockjaw ;  there 
is  about  its  lines  a  downright,  "  no-use-to-talk  "  expression, 
which  keeps  you  off  at  a  respectful  distance.  The  moment 
your  eye  falls  on  his  face,  the  idea  of  looking  to  it  for  sym- 
pathy strikes  you  as  having  something  fantastic  in  its  ab- 
surdity ;  you  would  as  soon  expect  sympathy  from  the  cold 
gravestone  of  a  pawnbroker. 

Brother  Croaker's  spiritual  part  fully  sustains  the  impres- 
sion made  by  his  physiognomy.  His  "  mission "  in  the 
world  is  evidently  to  keep  his  neighbors  all  right ;  and  for 
himself,  —  that  is  his  own  business.  His  evidences  of  per- 
sonal acceptance  with  God  resolve  themselves  all  into  one 
brief  sentence,  —  he  is  orthodox.  It  is  true,  you  never  meet 
him  at  evening  prayer-meetings.  He  lives  too  far  off,  and  his 
health  is  rather  feeble  (though  on  lyceum-lecture  nights, 
he  thanks  the  Lord,  he  is  somewhat  stronger),  and,  more- 
over, Mrs.  Croaker  dislikes  to  be  left  alone.  He  wishes  the 
meetings  were  better  attended,  and  wonders  that  brethren 
living  near  the  church  don't,  more  of  them,  "  turn  out." 

The  whole  matter  of  collections  and  contributions  is  an 
eyesore  to  him.  He  would  about  as  willingly  have  a  loaded 
revolver  thrust  at  him  as  a  contribution-box.  Collections, 
he  thinks,  come  too  often.  Once  in  six  months  is  enough,  in 
all  reason.  Charity  begins  at  home.  There  are  too  many 
societies,  doing  nothing  but  paying  fat  salaries  to  treasurers 
and  secretaries  out  of  the  hard  work  of  God's  people.     It 's 


228  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

all  folly  to  be  squandering  precious  money  on  so-  many  wild 
schemes  to  civilize  Patagonians  and  Kamtchatkans.  The 
missionary  calling  at  Brother  Croaker's  door,  has  a  task 
about  as  agreeable  as  wrenching  a  bone  from  a  hungry 
mastiff.  If  the  example  of  good  Deacon  A.,  who  gives  away 
half  his  income,  is  commended  to  him,  he  thinks  it  an  imper- 
tinence. He  always  thought  the  Deacon  had  a  soft  spot  in 
his  head  ;  and  he  is  growing  sure  of  it  now,  for  "a  fool  and 
his  money  are  soon  parted." 

As  to  family  worship,  he  expects  the  minister,  whenever 
he  calls  at  the  house,  (and  woe  to  him  if  that  is  not  often !) 
to  pray  with  them  all ;  but  for  himself,  he  feels  inadequate, 
though  he  does  muster  courage  to  speak,  when,  in  a  town- 
meeting,  Young  America  threatens  to  vote  away  money  and 
raise  his  taxes. 

Pressing  personal  religion  home  on  the  souls  of  his  chil- 
dren he  finds  embarrassing,  and  never  attempts  it.  It  is 
true,  they  are  all  growing  up  without  God  in  the  world,  but 
he  comforts  himself  by  charging  all  that  over  to  the  account 
of  Divine  Sovereignty. 

Brother  Croaker  has  one  favorite  hobby,  namely,  ecclesias- 
tical litigation.  A  council  called  by  the  church  —  especially 
in  any  embarrassing  case  —  is  a  perfect  godsend  to  him.  It 
is  really  wonderful  to  see  how  readily  he  contrives  to  excuse 
himself  from  Mrs.  Croaker,  and  how  heroically  his  feeble 
health  rallies  for  the  great  occasion.  Let  the  council  hold 
one  session,  or  a  dozen,  in  the  morning,  or  till  midnight,  in 
fair  weather  or  foul.  Brother  Croaker  is  sure  to  appear,  lean- 
ing eagerly  forward,  with  his  elbows  on  the  back  of  the  seat 
before  him,  his  projected  chin  on  his  open  palms,  and  his 
[gray  eyes,  that  so  often  are  drowsy  in  churcli,  as  restless  as 
ithose  of  grimalkin,  with  a  mouse  in  full  view. 
I  We  have  already  intimated  that  he  atones  for  any  harm- 
less little  peculiarities  by  the  rich  savor  of  his  orthodoxy. 
He  knows  the  five  points  of  Calvinism  as  he  knows  his 
five  fingers,  and  keeps  vigilant  watch  over  the  faith  once  de- 


BROTHER   CROAKER.  229 

livered  to  the  saints.  But  especially  he  maintains  a  sharp 
lookout  for  the  minister.  If  ever  that  hapless  personage 
lets  slip  a  word  about  the  innocence  of  childhood,  or  the 
amiability  of  worldly  men,  Brother  Croaker  is  after  him  at 
once  with  the  hue  and  cry  of  heresy ;  and  the  poor  pastor 
begins  to  doubt  his  own  identity,  on  waking  up  some  morn- 
ing, to  find  himself  a  full-blooded  Unitarian,  if  not  a  Park- 
erite,  —  a  ravening  wolf  in  sheep's  clothing.  If  it  should  so 
happen  that  the  pastor's  orthodoxy  is  established  and  unas- 
sailable. Brother  Croaker  finds  in  the  matter  and  manner  of 
his  sermons  prolific  themes  for  comment.  His  most  com- 
prehensive remark  —  and  most  convenient,  as  saving  the 
trouble  of  specification  —  is,  that  "  There  's  nothing  in  the 
sermons  anyhow,  —  all  froth." 

He  groans  with  unction  over  the  departure  of  good  Mr. 
P.,  the  last  pastor,  and  would  give  the  world  if  only  he  could 
return ;  albeit  a  little  inquiry  of  Mr.  P.  will  reveal  to  you 
that  he  reckoned  Brother  Croaker  the  sorest  affliction  ever 
visited  upon  him. 

He  begins  shortly  to  intermingle  forebodings  with  his 
criticisms,  like  the  few  low  thunder-peals  before  a  storm. 
Matters  cannot  go  on  long  at  this  rate,  that 's  clear.  Every- 
thing is  going  to  ruin,  and  if  nobody  else  but  him  has  dis- 
covered it,  nobody  else  looks  far  enough  ahead.  Our  esti- 
mable brother  has  a  memory  wondrously  retentive  of  all  tart 
remarks  on  the  minister,  by  whomsoever  dropped.  He  does 
for  the  parish  the  same  service  which  that  pan  which  receives 
all  drippings  of  sour,  curdled  milk,  does  for  the  dairy.  He 
understood  Squire  A.,  who  professes  to  be  one  of  the  pastor's 
best  friends,  to  say  that  he  did  not  think  the  last  sermon  he 
listened  to  was  quite  clear  on  election,  and  Dr.  B.  was  lately 
heard  complaining  that  homoeopathy  was  too  much  in  favor  at 
the  parsonage  ;  and  Mrs.  C.  says  she  loill  keep  her  feathers  if 
the  minister  does  preach  that  the  fashion  of  this  world  pass- 
eth  away.  With  these  and  like  weiglity  evidences  that  a 
crisis  is  approaching,  Brother  Croaker  proceeds  to  worry  the 


280  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

paste/  into  asking  a  dismission,  by  which  everybody  else  in 
the  parish  is  surprised  and  grieved  ;  but  nobody  more  so  than 
Squire  A.,  Dr.  B.,  and  Mrs.  C. 

Brother  Croaker  is  ready  to  acknowledge,  in  general,  that 
he  is  a  miserable  sinner,  —  that  he  was  shapen  in  iniquity  and 
in  sin  did  his  mother  conceive  him ;  but  call  his  attention  to 
any  special  and  favorite  infirmity  of  his  —  an  inveterate  at- 
tachment to  dollars,  for  example  —  and  you  get  a  lesson  for 
your  impertinence  that  you  won't  forget  for  a  lifetime.  He 
knows  what  regeneration  is,  and  he  knows  that  he  "  experi- 
enced religion "  twenty  years  ago  and  more;  —  he  can  give 
you  the  precise  date,  and  all  the  circumstances.  Moreover, 
he  believes  in  the  perseverance  of  the  saints,  and  that 's 
enough  for  Am,  and  he  don't  want  any  of  your  questions 
about  his  present  enjoyment  of  secret  prayer,  and  all  that. 

Brother  Croaker  is  just  as  sure  there  is  one  of  the  "  many 
mansions  "  fitted  up  in  waiting  for  him  as  if  he  had  already 
taken  up  his  quarters  in  it,  being  confident  that  no  questions 
will  be  asked  of  a  church-member,  like  himself,  "  in  good 
and  regular  standing,"  but  expecting  to  take  possession  very 
much  as  the  rightful  owner  of  property  long  in  the  liands  of 
an  agent  steps  in  at  last,  and  claims  his  own. 


NO    FEAR    FOR    THE    CHRISTIAN. 

"  Jesus,  the  name  that  calms  our  fears." 

FEAR  causes  great  suffering  in  this  world.  To  be  "  deliv- 
ered from  our  fears  "  is  cause  for  devout  gratitude ;  and 
to  find  a  sure  relief,  a  permanent  refuge  from  the  distressing 
dominion  of  fear,  would  be  an  inestimable  blessing.  Such  a 
refuge  we  have.  The  soul  that  is  truly  united  by  living  faith 
and  love  to  the  Saviour  of  mankind  need  never  be  tormented 
by  fear. 


NO  FEAR   FOR   THE   CHRISTIAN.  231 

As  you  look  forth  on  the  future,  what  do  you  dread  ?  Does 
the  fear  of  sickness  disturb  you  ?  Speak  the  name  of  Jesus 
in  your  heart  of  hearts.  He  whom  diseases  obey  will  either 
avert  the  danger,  or,  permitting  sickness  to  come  upon  you, 
will  come  himself  also  with  it,  and  make  it  such  a  blessing 
that  you  would  wish  for  it,  instead  of  fear  it,  if  it  should 
threaten  you  again  and  he  would  come  again  with  it. 

Do  you  fear  poverty  ?  Compel  your  anxious  thoughts  to 
dwell  for  a  while  upon  Him  who  said,  "  Take  no  thought  for 
the  morrow."  Remember,  that  though  he  was  rich,  he  became 
poor  for  your  sake.  Sincere  love  to  him  will  make  you  blush 
to  distrust  him,  and  bring  you  shortly  to  sing,  — 

"I  know  not  what  may  yet  betide, 
Nor  how  my  wants  shall  be  supplied, 
But  Jesus  knows,  and  will  provide." 

Do  you  fear  the  frowns  or  the  ridicule  of  your  fellow-men  ? 
You  are  not  the  first  who  has  trembled  under  that  burden. 
But  consider  Him  who  endured  the  contradiction  of  sinners 
against  himself.  Appeal  to  him.  He  can  so  strengthen  your 
soul's  vision,  that  you  shall  see  only  his  approving  smile,  and 
that  smile  shall  outweigh,  in  value,  the  favor  of  the  world. 

Is  death  to  you  "  the  king  of  terrors "  ?  and  does  your 
cheek  pale  at  the  prospect  of  his  near  approach  ?  Death  is 
indeed  inexorable.  Face  to  face  we  shall  surely  meet  him 
each  for  ourselves.  But  you  who  shrink  most  at  his  very 
name,  may,  through  the  grace  of  our  Lord,  yet  sing  for  joy 
at  his  coming.  I  have  sat  beside  many  death-beds.  I  have 
seen  the  aged  saint,  who  for  more  than  seventy  years  had 
walked  in  distressing  bondage  to  the  fear  of  death,  watch  his 
approaching  footsteps  with  glad,  triumphant  eyes,  so  filled 
and  crowned  with  the  dying  grace  which  Jesus  can  give,  as 
wholly  to  have  forgotten  the  terror  of  a  lifetime.  I  have  seen 
the  young  mother,  to  whom  no  friend  dared  whisper  of  the 
possible  end  when  sickness  first  came,  say  farewell,  with  un- 
faltering tongue,  to  husband  and  children,  and  exult,  amid 


232  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

nature' 5  dissolving  pains,  that  "Jesus  knows  what  it  is  tc 
die,"  and  giving  her  very  last  direction  thus :  — 

"  And,  fi-iends,  dear  friends,  when  it  shall  he 

That  this  low  breath  is  gone  from  me, 
When  round  my  bier  ye  come  to  weep, 

Let  one  most  loving  of  you  all 
Say,  '  Not  a  tear  must  o'er  her  fall. 

He  giveth  his  beloved  sleep.'  " 

Do  you  shrink  appalled  from  the  scenes  of  the  Judgment 
Day,  and  tremble  to  appear  before  the  bar  of  God  ?  In  that 
great  day,  and  in  the  midst  of  that  august  assembly,  you  may 
stand  with  a  perfect  peace  in  your  soul,  if  so  be  you  have 
loved  with  a  sincere  love,  and  trusted  with  sincere  faith,  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  who  will  sit  himself  as  Judge,  and  who 
knoweth  them  that  are  his. 

In  the  universe  of  God,  there  can  be  found  no  cause  for- 
suffering  fear  to  those  who  are  in  his  Son,  nor  through  the 
unending  ages  of  eternity  shall  any  event  occur  that  need 
disturb  their  serenity.  There  is  a  "  peace  of  God  "  for  them, 
which  passes  the  understanding  of  those  who  dwell  not  in  his 
"  secret  place." 


REGENERATION. 


SOME  seem  to  conceive  of  a  change  in  regeneration,  in  con 
sequence  of  which  man  receives  such  a  principle  of  holi- 
ness in  himself,  that  he  continues  holy  by  the  power  of  this 
principle,  and  by  the  necessary  tendencies  of  his  being.  But 
this  is  inconsistent  with  the  very  nature  of  a  created  and  de- 
pendent mind.  God  is  the  only  being  who  has  in  himself  an 
original  and  self-sustaining  power  of  holiness.  The  immuta- 
bility of  all  created  beings  in  holiness  can  be  secured  only  by 
such  a  union  with  God  that  he  can  exert  in  and  through  them 
his  sustaining  and  perfecting  power.    This  was  tlie  view  which 


THE  FLOWER  IN  THE  DESERT.  233 

Christ  sought  most  earnestly  to  enforce  on  his  disciples.  Their 
life  and  strength  were  to  be  found  solely  in  that  union  to  him 
and  communion  with  him,  that  enabled  him  constantly  to  ex- 
ert in  them  a  vital  and  sustaining  power,  analogous  to  that 
exerted  by  the  vine  to  sustain,  invigorate,  and  render  fruitful 
its  branches. 


THE  FLOWER  IN  THE  DESERT. 

A  MAN  never  knows  the  length  and  depth  of  his  own  na- 
ture who  lives  in  one  place  and  deals  with  one  class  of 
men  alone ;  but  must  expand  and  explore  himself,  —  must 
both  enlarge  his  capacity  and  must  understand  his  capacity, 
—  by  exploring  and  exhausting  many  varieties  of  situation. 
And  when  he  is  wandering  in  places  desolate  and  without  an 
inhabitant,  it  will  not  be  surprising  if,  in  the  yearnings  of  his 
heart  to  find  some  object  that  can  meet  its  wants,  he  should 
learn  to  love  the  fountains  and  even  tiie  rocks.  A  tree  or  a 
flower,  so  frequent  in  his  own  distant  land  a.;  to  diminish  in 
some  degree  the  sense  of  their  value,  will  wake  up  an  enthu- 
siasm of  thought  and  feeling  which  he  had  hardly  known  be- 
fore. Flowers  have  no  tongues,  and  therefore  have  no  out- 
ward speech;  but  I  think  they  may  be  said  to  speak  with 
the  heart ;  and  sometimes  they  utter  or  suggest  thoughts,  and 
enter  into  little  affectionate  conversations  which  are  quite  in- 
teresting. Some  of  the  weary  hours  which  were  occupied  in 
traversing  the  peninsula  of  Sinai  were  relieved  by  these  little 
soliloquies.  Allow  me  to  give  an  instance,  which,  for  the 
sake  of  younger  and  less  critical  readers,  I  will  put  int*> 
verse :  — 

One  day  in  the  desert 
With  pleasure  I  spied 

A  flower  in  its  beauty- 
Looking  up  at  my  side. 


234  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

And  I  said,  0  sweet  floweret, 
That  bloomest  alone, 

What 's  the  Avorth  of  thy  beauty, 
Thus  shining  unknown  1 

But  the  flower  gave  me  answer, 

With  a  smile  quite  divine, 
*  'T  is  the  nature,  0  stranger, 

Of  beauty  to  shine. 
Take  all  I  can  give  thee, 

And  when  thou  art  gone, 
The  light  that  is  in  me 

Will  keep  shining  on. 

And,  O  gentle  stranger. 

Permit  me  to  say. 
To  keep  up  thy  spirits 

Along  this  lone  way, 
While  thy  heart  shall  flow  outward 

To  gladden  and  bless. 
The  fount  at  its  centre 

Will  never  grow  less. 

I  was  struck  with  its  answer, 

And  left  it  to  glow 
To  the  clear  sky  above  it 

And  the  pale  sands  below ; 
Above  and  around  it 

Its  light  to  impart. 
But  never  exhausting 

The  fount  at  its  heart. 


A    yiRGINIA    SGHOOLMA'AM. 

SHE  was  not  of  the  kind  they  put  in  jail ;  she  taught  only 
white  children.  She  was  sound,  very  sound,  and  a  real 
hearty,  solid  Presbyterian,  and  of  a  "  certain  age."  But  I 
offended  her  terribly. 

She  attacked  me  several  times  quite  ferociously.  It  was  a 
great  comfort  to  her  that  I  had  voted  against  Father  Abraham, 
but  she  concluded  I  had  "  fallen  from  grace." 


A   VIRGINIA    SCHOOLJIA'AM.  235 

"  N'^w,"  said  she,  one  day,  "  you  Abolitionists  reject  the 
Bible." 

"  Not  by  any  means  !  "  said  I,  with  great  horror. 

"  What  if  the  Bible  authorized  us  to  hold  slaves ;  would  n't 
you  reject  the  Bible  ?  " 

"  No,  ma'am  !    God  can  authorize  it  if  he  chooses,"  said  I. 

"  Well,  then,"  said  she,  exultingly,  "  I  can  convince  you  it 
is  right  for  us  to  hold  slaves." 

"  Go  on,"  I  replied,  "  and  I  '11  give  it  up  if  you  bring 
Scripture  fairly  to  prove  it." 

She  got  her  Bible,  and  turned  instantly,  just  as  if  she  had 
read  that  place  a  good  deal,  to  Leviticus  xxv.  46,  and,  with 
forefinger  extended,  read  triumphantly,  "  They  shall  be  your 
bondmen  forever."    "  They  shall  .be  your  bondmen  foi'ever  !  " 

"  There,"  said  she,  "  does  not  that  settle  the  question  ? " 

"  What  question  ?  "  I  asked,  mnocently. 

"  Why  that  we  have  a  right  to  hold  slaves." 

"  Well,  not  quite,"  said  I.    "  First  of  all,  who  are  '  they '  ? " 

"  The  heathen,"  said  she,  after  reading  a  little,  say  the 
44th  verse.* 

"  Correct :  but '  thy  brother  waxen  poor,'  it  says,  shall  be 
'  as  a  hired  servant,'  and  shall  be  free  when  the  jubilee  year 
comes.     That 's  Scripture,  is  n't  it  ? " 

"  Ye-e-s,"  was  the  rather  reluctant  reply. 

"  But  you  have  been  telling  me  that  the  slaves  are  better 
off  because  many  of  them  are  converted.  You  don't  think  it 
right,  according  to  Scripture,  to  keep  them  as  slaves  ?  " 

She  was  nonplussed.     But  still, — 

"  Well,  those  not  Christians  we  have  a  right  to  hold,"  said 
she. 

"  Why  so  ?  " 

"  They  shall  be  your  bondmen  forever." 

"You  remind  me,"  said  I,  "  of  the  old  school-boy  way  of 
proving  the  duty  of  hanging  one's  self,  by  quoting  'Judas 
went  and  hanged  himself,'  with  '  Go  thou  and  do  likewise.'  " 

Whereat  the  schoolma'am  waxed  wroth. 


236  HOUSEHOLD   EEADING. 

"  This  applies  to  the  subject  directly,"  said  she. 

"  What  subject  ?  " 

"  It  proves  that  it  is  right  to  hold  slaves." 

"  Right  for  whom  to  hold  slaves  ?  " 

"  Why,  for  anybody." 

"  Not  at  all,  madam.  If  it  proves  anything,  it  proves  it 
■was  the  privilege  of  the  Jews.     Are  you  a  Jew  ?  " 

She  was  vexed. 

"  If  it  was  right  for  the  Jews,  it  is  right  for  us,"  she  said. 

"  I  don't  see  that,"  said  I.  "  I  admit  that  God  could  au- 
thorize certain  parties  to  hold  slaves ;  but  it  does  not  follow 
that  others  not  so  authorized  have  a  right  to  do  it.  The 
privilege  is  limited  by  the  special  permission,  because  contrary 
to  natural  right.  Show  me  a  provision  anywhere  from  God 
authorizing  the  South  to  do  it,  and  I  will  submit ;  but  I  want 
the  documents  ! " 

She  began  to  think  I  was  an  infidel.  But  I  pacified  her  by 
insisting  that  I  believed  in  the  five  points  of  Calvinism  clear 
through. 

Then  she  laid  down  again  the  general  principle  that  what 
was  right  for  the  Jews  is  right  for  us. 

"Very  well,"  said  I,  "Abraham  was  ordered  to  sacrifice 
his  only  son.  Do  you  believe  it  is  everybody's  duty  or  priv- 
ilege now  ? " 

She  did  not ;  but  that  was  a  peculiar  and  single  case. 

"  Yery  well,"  said  I,  "  take  a  general  case.  Jewish  men 
had  several  wives  apiece.  Am  I  to  understand  that  you  ad- 
vocate that  arrangement  now  ?  Or,  is  it  your  idea  that 
slavery  is  called  a  '  patriarchal  system '  because  it  comes  as 
near  to  this  arrangement  as  possible  ;  if  I  may  judge  from 
the  color  of  the  slaves  hereabouts  ?  " 

The  indignant  schoolma'am  was  filled  with  wrath,  and  I 
have  not  dared  to  argue  with  a  woman  since. 


MINISTERIAL  lEEEVERENCE.  237 


MINISTERIAL    IRREYERENCE. 

HAVING  been  honored  a  few  Sabbaths  since,  by  an  emi- 
nent and  truly  excellent  clergyman,  with  a  seat  in  his 
pulpit,  and  a  share  in  the  services  of  the  occasion,  the  ques- 
tion arose  in  my  mind,  whether  the  desire  of  the  distin- 
guished pastor  to  show  courtesy  to  myself,  as  a  ministerial 
brother,  did  not  betray  him  in  one  particular  into  an  irrever- 
ent demeanor,  as  foreign  to  his  intention  in  that  instance  as 
to  the  general  spirit  of  the  man.  The  offence  was  no  doubt 
as  thoughtless  on  his  part  as  the  participation  in  it  for  a 
little  time  was  on  mine,  and  it  is  to  promote  though tfulness 
on  the  subject  that  I  present  the  case  to  the  clerical  readers 
of  the  "  Congregationalist." 

During  the  singing  of  each  of  the  hymns,  and  also,  so  far 
as  I  observed,  on  a  similar  occasion,  during  the  reading  of 
the  hymns  and  Scriptures,  by  an  assisting  minister,  the 
pastor  engaged  freely  in  continuous  miscellaneous  conversa- 
tion with  the  brother  at  his  side.  The  appearance  of  the 
audience,  comparisons  of  different  churches,  certain  pro- 
posed alterations  in  the  interior  of  the  church  edifice  in 
which  we  were  assembled,  the  effect  of  the  mourning  weeds 
in  which  the  church  was  draped,  the  best  method  of  giving 
notices,  and  the  providential  uses  of  the  ill  health  of  minis- 
ters, were  sorne  of  the  topics  discussed  in  the  pulpit,  during 
the  reading  and  singing  of  a  single  Sabbath  morning.  All 
this  conversation  took  place  while  the  congregation  were 
supposed  to  be  worshipping  God  by  the  use  of  psalms  and 
hymns  and  spiritual  songs,  making  melody  in  the  heart  unto 
the  Lord ;  or,  listening  to  the  oracles  of  God,  were  supposed 
to  be  striving  to  obey  the  injunction,  "  Take  heed  how  ye 
hear."  The  desire  to  occupy  all  the  time  possible  in  con- 
versation was  so  far  indulged,  that  occasionally  the  congre- 
gation had  quite  concluded  their  exercise  before  the  minister 


238  HOUSEHOLD   EEADING. 

had  finished  the  subject  in  hand,  and,  apparently  surprised, 
he  would  either  break  o£f  hurriedly,  or  would  complete  his 
remark  while  rising  to  take  some  further  part  in  the  service 
which  remained. 

In  respect  to  such  habits,  and  others  akin  to  them,  the 
question  arises.  Does  a  clergyman  cease  to  be  a  worshipper 
because  he  leads  a  part  of  the  worship  ?  If  he  may  look 
around  him  and  read  and  chat  while  the  choir  is  leading  in 
one  part  of  the  worship,  may  the  choir  look  around  and  read 
and  chat  while  he  is  leading  in  another  part  of  the  worship  ? 
Choirs  sometimes  do  this,  but  not  with  the  approbation  of 
their  ministers.  "Why  should  ministers  condemn  a  neglect 
of  divine  worship  in  a  choir  which  they  allow  in  them- 
selves ?  Is  it  better  or  worse  to  set  an  example  of  inatten- 
tion and  irreverence  before  a  congregation  by  a  minister, 
than  to  set  one  behind  a  congregation  by  a  choir  ?  Who 
is  supposed  to  be  best  informed,  most  considerate,  and 
most  interested  in  respect  to  maintaining  the  proprieties .  of 
Sabbath  worship  and  the  sanctities  of  God's  house  ?  If  the 
minister  need  give  his  attention  only  while  he  is  conducting 
the  worship,  may  not  the  congregation  withhold  their  atten- 
tion save  when  they  are  conducting  the  worship  ?  If  the 
minister's  mind  may  rove  on  miscellaneous  topics  during 
the  singing,  may  not  the  minds  of  the  congregation  do  the 
same  during  the  preaching  and  the  praying  ?  If  the  preacher 
may  be  reading  over  his  sermon  during  the  singing,  why 
cannot  the  chorister  be  humming  over  his  tunes  during  the 
preaching  ?  It  may  sometimes  be  necessary  for  ministers 
who  are  to  assist  each  other  in  a  service,  and  who  have  had 
no  opportunity  for  previous  conference,  to  arrange  the  parts 
of  the  service  after  entering  the  pulpit,  or  to  confer  briefly 
in  regard  to  some  matters  which  cannot  be  deferred.  In 
a  strange  pulpit,  sometimes,  hymns  must  be  selected  and 
notices  spelled  out.  These  items,  however,  can  commonly 
receive  all  the  necessary  attention:  before  the  service  begins, 
or  in  the  brief  intervals  between  the  separate  acts  of  wor- 


MNISTEEIAL  IRREVERENCE.  239 

ship.  Not  that  a  minister  has  any  right  to  make  long  inter- 
vals between  different  parts  of  the  service,  keeping  several 
hundred  people  waiting  while  he  arranges  what  should  have 
been  attended  to  before.  Nor  has  he  any  right  to  select  the 
time  when  the  congregation  are  endeavoring  to  sing  to  the 
praise  of  God,  to  get  up  in  the  pulpit,  in  their  sight,  and 
divert  their  attention  by  a  conspicuous  and  fussy  turning 
over  of  the  Scriptures,  to  make  his  selections,  or  by  ostenta- 
tiously placing  in  readiness  his  sermon,  or  hymn-book,  or 
spectacles,  or  glass  of  water,  or  handkerchief,  or  all  of  them. 
There  may  be  different  ways  of  avoiding  all  this,  and  it  is 
doubtless  done  most  easily  in  those  churches  which  have  a 
retiring-room  near  the  pulpit,  where  outer  clothing  may  be 
laid  aside,  and  hymns  and  chapters  selected  before  meeting 
the  congregation  or  commencing  the  worship.  But  even 
where  this  advantage  is  not  enjoyed,  a  thoughtful  person  will 
find  little  difficulty  in  avoiding  everything  offensive  and  im- 
proper. Assistance  has  sometimes  been  gained, — to  speak  of 
one  small  matter,  which,  in  some  ministers'  hands,  seeins  a 
perpetual  occasion  of  confusion  and  delay,  —  by  providing  the 
pulpit  hymn-book  with  three  different  marks,  as  ribbons  of 
different  shades  or  widths,  and  numbered,  or  known  as  first, 
second,  and  third,  to  guide  to  the  several  hymns  in  the  order 
in  which  they  are  to  be  sung.  Means  and  methods,  however, 
are,  to  a  grea?t  extent,  matters  of  individual  taste,  and  it  was 
not  my  purpose  to  remark  upon  such  matters,  either  small  or 
great.  Yet  it  is  worthy  of  frequent  remembrance,  that  to 
•divert  the  minds  of  men  from  the  momentous  realities  of 
divine  worship  to  the  peculiarities  of  him  who  conducts  it, 
is  one  of  Satan's  most  common  stratagems ;  that  a  skilful- 
ness  in  avoiding  this  snare  of  the  Devil  was  a  special  charac- 
teristic of  some  of  the  most  useful  preachers  of  the  last  gen- 
eration ;  and  that,  among  the  most  effective  men  in  the  pulpit 
of  our  own  times,  there  are  many  who  are  eminent  not  less 
for  purity  of  life  and  singleness  of  aim  than  for  a  fine  sense 
of  decorum,  whose  modesty  and  dignity  of  bearing  give  them 


240  HOUSEHOLD  EEADING. 

rank  as  models  of  ministerial  deportment,  who  are  never  de- 
tected in  any  of  the  faults  which  have  here  been  named,  and 
who,  in  short,  deem  it  a  sin  and  a  shame  for  any  needless 
offence  against  propriety  to  be  allowed  in  the  solemn  public 
services  of  an  ambassador  of  Christ. 


AN    ANTIQUARIAN    DINNER. 

ONE  of  the  most  interesting  occasions  which  I  have  en- 
joyed in  Germany  is  a  yearly  antiquarian  dinner  at  Bre- 
men, established  about  the  year  1650  by  the  founders  of  an 
institution  for  the  benefit  of  poor  captains  and  sailors  and 
their  families,  and  given  every  year  in  the  manner  of  our 
remote  forefathers.  We  travel  through  Europe  and  see 
the  shells  of  old  castles,  their  mouldering  and  ivy-covered 
towers ;  and  as  we  wander  through  them,  and  creep  through 
their  low  doors,  and  tread  their  stone  pavements,  and  won- 
der at  their  huge  fireplaces,  we  try  to  conjecture  what  kind 
of  a  people  once  lived  in  them,  and  to  imagine  to  ourselves 
how  they  lived,  what  kind  of  food  they  ate,  and  how  it  was 
served ;  but  our  imagination  is  not  equal  to  the  weighty 
task,  and  all  the  appliances  of  modern  luxury  come  in  to 
color  the  picture,  till  we  give  up  the  attempt  to  shape  a  true 
conception  of  the  simple  manners  of  "  y^  olden  times."  But 
recently  I  have  been  enabled  to  see  how  our  fathers  lived  and 
were  served  ;  and  I  will  write  it  down,  if  haply  it  may  enter- 
tain my  distant  countrymen. 

At  two  o'clock,  all  of  the  Bremen  ship-owners,  and  such 
strangers  as  enjoyed  the  privilege,  met  at  the  old  house  of 
this  Navigators'  Aid  Company  to  partake  of  this  memorial 
dinner.  A  fine  company,  of  course  ;  mostly  very  substantial 
men,  hardly  to  be  called  German  in  their  appearance,  —  far 
more  American  than  German.     There  were  two  hundred  in 


AN  ANTIQUARIAN   DINNER.  241 

all,  and  tlioy  stood  from  two  to  three  o'clock  in  friendly  con- 
verse in  one  of  the  old  halls  of  the  building,  with  the  names 
and  coats-of-arms  of  past  benefactors  painted  on  the  dark 
woodwork  of  the  walls.  At  just  three  the  doors  of  the  din- 
ing-room were  thrown  open,  and  a  loud  voice  called  the  com- 
pany to  dinner  in  the  same  words  with  which  German  ship- 
captains  call  their  hands  to  dinner.  I  did  not  catch  every 
word,  but,  translated,  it  was  something  after  this  strain  :  "  All 
hands  ahoy  !  above  and  below  ahoy !  dinner !  dinner !  "  So 
we  pressed  into  the  long  dining-room,  richly  canopied  with  all 
the  flags  of  leading  commercial  countries,  the  star-spangled 
banner  being  singularly  conspicuous.  Every  side  of  the  room 
was  hidden  with  the  multitude  of  flags,  and  interspersed 
among  them  were  portraits  of  former  benefactors  of  this 
excellent  institution.  Over  the  door  hung  the  portrait  of  a 
signally  liberal  donor  at  the  time  of  the  founding  of  the  Nav- 
igators' Aid  Society.  His  name  has  been  lost,  but  the  record 
of  what  he  did  has  survived.  Originally  his  picture  was 
painted  in  very  small  size,  about  a  foot  square ;  but  since 
then,  as  other  b-^nefactors  have  been  painted  life-size,  the  di- 
rectors, fearing  lest  the  credit  of  this  old  friend  should  be 
overshadowed  liy  more  modern  men,  have  enlarged  this  pic- 
ture, and  after  a  most  singular  fashion  !  The  old  bit  of  dark- 
brown  canvas  now  stands  pasted  upon  a  large  square  field  of 
common  portrait  size,  tinged  "  deeply,  darkly,  beautifully 
blue  " ;  and  to  fill  up  this  monstrously  absurd  vacuum  an 
angel  has  been  put  in  on  each  side  of  the  head,  and  a  quan- 
tity of  shipping  beneath. 

Glance  a  moment  at  the  tables.  The  plates,  you  will  see, 
are  marked  1789,  and  during  seventy-seven  years  they  have 
been  brought  out  year  by  year  to  grace  the  board.  Notice 
the  huge  silver  spoons,  each  one  of  which  would  make  a 
dozen  of  the  small  efforts  of  our  days.  Along  the  tables  you 
see  great  silver  tankards,  each  of  which  will  hold  nearly  a 
gallon,  filled  with  a  dark,  sweet,  thick  beer,  such  as  Luther 
used  to  drink,  the  first  draught  of  which  is  pleasant,  and  the 

16 


242  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

second  nauseating.  Notice  the  knives  and  forks,  —  old  steel 
ones,  you  see :  our  forefathers  did  not  flourish  silver  forks. 
See  the  wooden  fish-knives,  —  simple,  practical,  and  not  at  all 
liable  to  rust.  Notice  the  little  paper  of  pepper  on  one  side 
of  the  plate,  and  the  little  paper  of  salt  on  the  other  side : 
our  ancestors  did  not  know  the  use  of  castors.  Notice  the 
piece  of  brown  paper  which  lies  under  each  plate :  our  fa- 
thers did  not  have  their  knife  and  fork  changed  with  every 
course,  but  wiped  them  themselves,  on  a  bit  of  brown  paper ; 
and  so  shall  we. 

Well,  we  have  looked  at  the  tables,  and  rather  impatiently 
await  the  first  course.  "  But  soft !  "  our  next  neighbor,  the 
American  Vice-Consul,  whispers ;  "  no  impatience !  our  an- 
cestors did  not  do  their  eating  in  haste  ;  no  more  shall  we. 
We  have  got  to  sit  here  for  five  to  six  hours."  So  we  patient- 
ly wait,  and  in  due  time  soup  appears,  —  real  substantial 
soup,  and  most  evidently  distinguished  from  modern  German 
soup,  in  that  it  has  a  palpable  flavor  of  meat.  This  we  eat, 
not  alone,  but  with  chicken,  boiled  till  it  is  ready  to  fall  apart, 
and  a  kind  of  black  bread  which  has  been  cooked  in  the  soup 
till  it  has  acquired  great  richness,  and  has  then  been  taken 
out,  the  soup  expressed,  and  the  dry  bread  then  served  to  be 
immersed  in  the  soup  again.  With  this  we  eat  the  most  deli- 
cious of  bakers'  rolls,  —  so  delicious,  in  fact,  that  I  am  almost 
forced  to  think  that  the  making  of  bread  has  become  one  of 
the  "  lost  arts."  With  the  exception  of  the  chicken  served 
with  the  soup,  there  appears  no  more  poultry.  I  must  not 
forget  to  state  that  before  every  plate  stands  a  large  bottle  of 
wine,  white  alternating  with  red  ;  and  though  all  drank,  yet, 
owing  to  the  natural  temperateness  of  the  German  character, 
there  was  not  a  particle  of  intoxication. 

After  an  immoderate  pause,  filled  up,  of  course,  with 
abundance  of  talk,  the  second  course  appears,  —  plain  boiled 
fish,  served  with  potatoes  and  gravy,  such  as  our  Amer- 
ican people  are  very  well  accustomed  to,  and  very  good  with 
al,  as  I  trust  some  thousands  of  my  readers  will  testify. 


AN   ANTIQUARIAN  DIKNEE.  243 

While  the  fish  was  finding  a  quick  disposal  in  a  ready  market, 
a  little  bell  rang,  and  a  gentleman,  strikingly  American  in  his 
air  and  in  his  look,  rose  at  the  end  of  one  of  the  tables.  At 
each  side  stood  a  weather-beaten  man,  both  looking  like  ship- 
captains,  and  such  they  proved  to  be.  The  gentleman  in  the 
middle  was  a  merchant,  and  his  duty  was  to  thank  the  com- 
pany for  their  presence,  and  to  bid  them  do  what  we  express 
in  our  excellent  way,  "  make  themselves  at  home."  The 
Consul  informed  me  that  the  dinner  is  given  by  three  mer- 
chants and  six  captains  of  Bremen,  the  number  elected  as 
directors  every  year ;  and  being  elected  they  give  a  dinner, 
which,  however,  occurs  three  years  from  the  date  of  their 
election.  The  three  merchants  and  six  captains  who  are 
elected  directors  of  the  Navigators'  Aid  Company  this  year 
(1866)  will  give  the  dinner  in  1869.  They  sit  at  the  head  of 
the  three  tables,  and  whenever  one  of  the  merchants  rises  to 
give  a  toast  or  make  a  speech,  the  two  captains  rise  and  stand 
dumb  by  his  side. 

The  time  passes,  and  at  length  the  third  course  comes,  and 
to  describe  it  surpasses  my  power  ;  and  this  for  two  reasons, 
of  which  one  is  that  my  memory  cannot  retain  the  number  of 
dishes,  and  the  other  is  that  there  were  many  things  whose 
names  and  whose  nature  I  did  not  know.  I  can  report,  how- 
ever, that  huge,  old-fashioned  dishes  were  passed  round,  con- 
taining sausage,  cutlets,  sour-kraut,  boiled  beets,  treated  in 
some  indescribable  way,  boiled  beef,  boiled  veal  (supposed), 
and  boiled  ham,  all  following  each  other  in  immediate  succes- 
sion, and  all  of  which  I  took  upon  my  plate,  not  because  I 
wanted  it,  but  because  it  seemed  the  universal  custom.  One 
thing  was  wanting,  however,  —  good  mealy  potatoes.  These 
had  been  served  with  the  fish,  but  afterwards  they  did  not  ap- 
pear. Still,  these  dishes  were  not  very  different  from  genuine 
German  fare  now-a-days.  But  now-a-days  they  are  not  forced 
upon  you  as  they  were  in  the  old  times.  I  had  no  less  than 
five  different  kinds  of  meat  upon  my  plate  at  once.  While 
this  great  king  of  all  the  courses  was  being  despatched,  the 


244  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

two  ship-captains  who  sat  at  the  end  of  each  table  rose,  and 
each  took  one  of  the  huge  silver  tankards  of  thick,  strong 
beer  of  which  I  have  spoken,  and  striking  the  tankards  three 
times  against  each  other,  bowed  and  drank  a  draught.  They 
handed  it  to  the  next  two  gentlemen,  who  took  it  and  did  the 
same,  and  thus  it  passed  the  entire  length  of  the  table.  Dur- 
ing the  third  course  toasts  were  given,  mostly  local,  of  course, 
Buch  as  to  the  Free  City  of  Bremen  and  to  the  Navigators' 
Aid  Company.  But  of  these  I  will  not  at  any  length  speak, 
merely  remarking  that  they  continued  through  the  entire 
dinner. 

At  length  the  fourth  course  appeared,  —  roast  beef  and 
roast  veal,  with  delicious  plums  and  stewed  apple,  and  a  salad 
at  whose  ingredients  I  dare  not  guess.  To  me,  however,  it 
was  most  distasteful. 

The  fifth  was  bread,  with  butter  and  cheese,  just  as  we 
have  it  now  in  all  German  dinners  ;  then  coffee  and  cigars. 
The  only  difference  which  I  noticed  in  this,  as  compared  with 
ancient  times,  was  that  the  cojffee  had  been  sweetened  with 
molasses  before  it  was  served. 

But  though  in  all  these  later  courses  the  viands  were,  in 
the  main,  not  unlike  what  one  meets  now-a-days  in  Germany, 
yet  the  manner  in  which  everything  was  served,  the  old  plates, 
the  unchanged  knives  and  forks  which  we  had  to  keep  clean 
with  our  brown-paper  napkins,  the  old-fashioned  jollity,  the 
speeches  in  Low  German,  the  odd  dialect  unintelligible  to  for- 
eigners, the  presence  of  ladies  in  a  secret  gallery,  where  they 
peeped  from  behind  the  banners,  they  known  to  be  there  yet 
themselves  not  visible,  ladies  having  no  part  in  the  feast,  — 
all  this  gave  it  a  novelty  and  an  ancient  air  which  I  could 
hardly  believe  possible.  And  then,  too,  the  dinner  was  in  one 
of  the  old  Hanseatic  cities,  and  these  were  all  rich  Bremen 
burghers, — judge  whether  this  did  not  lend  its  aid.  And 
when  the  book  of  old  familiar  songs  was  brought  in,  and  all 
joined  in  singing  the  patriotic  airs  which  men  of  former  days 
composed  and  sang,  and  men  owning  half  a  score  of  ships 


DEEDS   OF   KINDNESS.  246 

rose  and  gave  their  own  song,  while  the  whole  company 
shouted  "  Bravo !  "  and  the  fumes  of  two  hundred  cigan 
filled  the  room,  and  all  was  mirth  and  life,  you  may  judge 
whether  or  not  I  could  imagine  how  baronial  halls  used  to 
appear  when  the  same  substantial  viands  graced  the  board, 
the  same  songs  ran  round,  and  the  same  Low  German  was 
spoken.  It  has  taken  a  long  journey  to  be  present  at  this 
feast ;  but  it  is  a  real  satisfaction  to  have  been  there ;  and  I 
will  close  by  saying,  that  if  we  could  have  something  of  the 
same  sort  with  us  on  Forefathers'  Day,  kept  in  the  primitive 
styles,  it  would  be  hardly  less  interesting  in  America. 


DEEDS    OF    KINDNESS. 

SUPPOSE  the  little  cowslip 
Should  hang  its  little  cup, 
And  say,  "  I  'm  such  a  tiny  flower 

I  'd  better  not  grow  up." 
How  many  a  weary  traveller 

Would  miss  its  fragrant  smell ; 
How  many  a  little  child  would  grieve 
To  miss  it  from  the  dell. 

Suppose  the  glistening  dew-drop 

Upon  the  grass  should  say, 
"  What  can  a  little  dew-drop  do  ? 

I  'd  better  roll  away  "  ; 
The  blade  on  which  it  rested, 

Before  the  day  was  done, 
Without  a  drop  to  moisten  it, 

Would  wither  in  the  sun. 

Suppose  the  little  breezes, 

Upon  a  summer's  day, 
Should  think  themselves  too  small  to  cool 

The  traveller  on  his  way  j 


246  HOUSEHOLD   EEADING. 

Who  would  not  miss  the  smallest 
And  softest  ones  that  blow, 

And  think  they  made  a  great  mistake 
If  they  were  talking  so  ? 

How  many  deeds  of  kindness 

A  little  child  may  do, 
Although  it  has  so  little  strength, 

And  little  wisdom  too  ! 
It  wants  a  loving  spirit, 

Much  more  than  strength,  to  prove 
How  many  things  a  child  may  do 

For  others  by  his  love. 


HOW    ARE    YOU? 


WE  are  accustomed  to  meet  each  other  always  with  this 
kindly  question,  "  How  are  you  ?  " 
It  is  not  the  man's  house,  his  workshop,  or  his  farm. 
There  is  no  difficulty  in  discerning  between  Mm  and  these 
accidents  of  his  circumstances.  He  may  have  them  or  not ; 
they  may  be  in  one  condition  or  another.  They  are  not 
included  in  the  question,  How  are  "  you  ?  "  Nor  do  we  in- 
quire what  is  the  estimation  or  influence  he  has  in  commun- 
ity. The  "  you  "  is  something  else  than  these.  It  is  some- 
thing else  than  the  clothes  he  wears.  They  may  be  well  or 
ill,  and  the  "  you  "  within  them  be  the  opposite.  Is  the 
hody  that  which  is  questioned,  and  answers  ?  By  and  by 
you  and  we  may  lay  these  side  by  side  in  the  dust,  and  there 
will  be  as  little  consciousness  in  them  of  anything  else,  or  of 
each  other,  as  there  is  now  in  the  clods  they  stand  on.  The 
"  you  "  dwells  in  the  body  for  the  present,  but  that  body  is 
not  the  "  you."  It  may  be  well,  and  you  ill,  —  it  may  be 
dying,  and  you  well. 


HOW   ARE   YOU  ?  247 

It  is  the  soul  that  asks  the  question,  the  soul  that  must 
answer  it.  What  a  pity  it  should  always  be  considered  as 
having  reference  to  this  frail  body.  What  a  pity  men  do 
not  have  and  manifest  as  much  interest  in  each  other's  souls 
as  in  each  other's  bodies. 

How,  then,  are  you^  —  yourself,  —  your  soul  ?  Whether 
it  is  in  health,  it  would  seem  easy  to  ascertain.  How  is  it 
with  the  appetite  ?  The  soul  must  have  food,  God's  truth, 
the  bread  from  heaven,  if  it  is  to  live.  Does  it  crave  and 
enjoy  this  food  ?  When  a  man's  body  is  in  health,  he  never 
goes  to  the  table  from  a  sense  of  duty.  He  does  not  swallow 
reluctantly  and  painfully,  because  he  must,  or  die.  He 
never  thinks  that  he  is  eating  to  gain  strength,  and  support 
life.  He  eats  because  he  has  an  appetite  for  food,  because 
he  craves  and  loves  it.  One  first  symptom  of  bodily  illness 
is  loss  of  appetite.  The  poor  invalid  forces  down  some  food, 
because,  however  indifferent  to  it,  or  however  much  he 
loathes  it,  tiie  dread  of  still  greater  weakness  or  of  death 
compels  him.  Let  a  man  apply  this  test  to  his  soul  and  its 
food.  Can  he  say  to  God,  "  How  sweet  are  thy  words  unto 
my  taste  !  yea,  sweeter  than  honey  to  my  mouth  "  ?  Can  he 
say,  with  Job,  "  I  have  esteemed  the  words  of  his  mouth  more 
than  my  necessary  food  "  ?  with  David,  "  My  soul  longeth, 
yea,  even  fainteth,  for  the  courts  of  the  Lord  "  ?  This  test 
of  the  appetite,  how  easily  it  can  be  applied,  —  as  a  young 
convert  lately  applied  it,  —  showing  the  wide  difference  be- 
tween those  who  outwardly  regard,  and  those  who  really  love 
God's  truth.  So,  appropriate  exercise  is  the  very  pleasure  of 
a  sound  and  vigorous  body.  Who  ever  saw  a  healthy  child 
for  many  minutes  still  ?  No  more  can  the  soul  be  still  that 
is  in  health.  It  must  be  doing  something,  —  something  ap- 
propriate for  the  soul,  —  something  for  God.  The  Master 
expresses  this  when  he  says,  "  I  must  work  the  works  of  him 
that  sent  me  while  it  is  day."  "  My  meat  is  to  do  the  will 
of  him  that  sent  me,  and  to  finish  his  work."  Exertion  for 
God,  in  his  service,  is  it  easy,  pleasant  to  you  ?     Or  is  it  as 


248  HOUSEHOLD  BEADING. 

when  the  body,  weak,  or  racked  with  pain  at  every  move- 
ment, drags  itself  reluctantly  to  its  tasks?  So,  also,  there 
is  rest,  another  good  test  of  health.  How  quietly  and  sweetly 
it  comes  to  the  hale  and  hearty  body !  How  perfect  the 
slumber  of  the  vigorous  child,  however  the  earth  may  quake, 
or  the  winds  howl !  The  restless  starting,  the  inability  to 
compose  one's  self  to  sleep,  the  tossing  to  and  fro  until  the 
dawning  of  the  day,  what  a  sure  indication  that  disease  is 
at  its  work  in  these  bodies  !  So  with  the  soul.  If  it  finds 
sweet  repose,  if  it  can  rest  in  God,  if  it  can  quietly  commit 
itself  and  its  all  into  the  arms  of  its  Heavenly  Father,  and 
love  to  lie  there,  what  a  sure  symptom  of  spiritual  health ! 

Perhaps  we  need  look  no  further.  Love  of  food,  pleasure 
in  exertion,  quiet  repose,  —  these  are  sufficient  tests  of  the 
soul's  health. 

Dear  reader,  Christian  brother,  sister.  How  are  you  ? 


I    CAN'T    LOYE    HIM. 

YOU  can't  love  God  !  Why  can't  you  love  him  ? 
"  0,  there  's  so  much  in  the  world  that  is  n't  right ;  so 
much  that  /  could  n't  do.  Only  yesterday  I  went  to  see  a 
poor  woman,  with  an  infant ;  she  had  no  suitable  clothing  for 
herself  or  for  the  child,  and  no  food.  Things  ought  not  to 
be  so.  God  ought  to  have  made  them  difierent.  I  couldn't 
love  myself  if  I  had  done  so,  and  I  can't  love  God  for  letting 
them  be  so." 

Well,  if  you  have  taken  upon  you  the  regulation  of  God, 
and  his  world,  I  can  hardly  hope  to  influence  you.  You  will 
find  that  a  very  large  work ;  beyond  your  strength,  beyond 
your  wisdom,  I  suspect.  There  's  one  thing  you  surely  ought 
to  bring  to  such  a  work,  and  that  is  what  men  call  logical 
consistency.     I  much  fear  you  have  n't  it  to  bring.     It  is  a 


I   CAN'T  LOVE  HIM.  249 

very  simple  thing ;  merely  this,  that  when  you  have  once 
clearly  seen  and  owned  a  truth,  you  shall  follow  it  out  to  its 
inevitable  conclusion.  Let  me  give  you  an  illustration,  and 
an  opportunity.  There  was  a  time  —  so  we  read  in  the 
Bible  —  when  God  said,  "  Let  us  make  man."  At  that  point 
of  time  God  evidently  considered  how  and  what  he  would 
make  man.  And  his  conclusion  is  recorded :  "  So  God  cre- 
ated man  in  his  own  image."  He  might  have  decided  to 
make  man  a  machine.  As  I  understand  you,  you  are  blaming 
God  that  he  did  not  make  man  a  machine.  Was  not  that  it  ? 
"  I  think  he  might  have  made  him  different." 
That  is,  you  think  he  might  have  made  him  so  that  he 
could  n't  sin.  But  we  have  read  from  the  Bible  that  God 
decided  to  make  man  in  his  own  image.  One  would  think 
that  should  satisfy  the  most  difficult.  What,  will  you  quarrel 
with  the  Creator  for  making  you  in  his  own  image  ?  Can 
anything  be  more  honorable  ?  Let  us  see  what  it  is.  God 
thinks,  reasons,  weighs  evidence,  compares  motives,  chooses 
and  loves  and  hates.  In  doing  these  he  commands  the  love 
and  reverence  of  every  thinking,  reasoning,  choosing,  loving, 
and  hating  creature. 

So  man,  created  in  God's  image,  commands  or  inspires 
love  and  reverence.  Does  mere  negative  innocence  inspire 
your  love  and  reverence  ?  Can  you  love  and  reverence  one 
who  has  never  known,  who  is  constitutionally  incapable  of 
knowing,  temptation  ?  Does  not  your  idea  of  virtue  include, 
of  necessity,  a  will  to  resist  evil  ?  Could  you  love  a  ma- 
chine ?  Of  course  you  might  admire  machinery  which  was 
exquisitely  adapted  to  the  work  for  which  it  was  made ;  but 
could  you  love  a  machine  ?  Has  it  any  attraction  for  your 
heart  ? 

"  No  ;  of  course  I  could  not  love  a  machine." 
Then  you  would  not  consent  to  reduce  the  friends  you 
love  to  the  level  of  machines :  are  you  any  more  willing  to 
surrender  their  love,  and  be  yourself  reduced  to  a  machine, 
that  you  might  thus  be  rendered  incapable  of  doinjr  wrong  ? 


250  HOUSEHOLD  EEADING. 

"  No,  I  should  not  wish  to  be  a  machine." 

But  I  see  not  how  God  could  make  you  in  his  own  image, 
that  is,  free  to  choose,  refuse,  love,  and  hate,  and  yet  render 
it  impossible  for  you  to  use  your  freedom,  excepting  when 
your  will  is  to  do  right.  Disguise  it  how  you  will,  this  would 
be  to  reduce  you  to  the  level  of  a  machine,  which  acts  only 
as  it  is  constrained  by  power. 

"  Well,  I  can't  deny  all  that ;  and  yet,  I  don't  see,  feeling 
as  I  do,  how  I  can  possibly  love  him." 

Nor  I :  and  feeling  as  you  do,  you  never  will.  But  there 
is  one  thing  you  can  do.  You  can  say  to  him,  much  after 
the  manner  of  Caroline  Fry,  "  Lord,  I  don't  love  thee :  I  can't 
say  that  I  ever  wish  to  love  thee.  I  find  my  heart  is  turne(^ 
away  from  thee.  But  thou  hast  said  that  we  must  be  born 
again  or  perish.  I  cannot  regenerate  myself.  I  am  unwilling 
to  perish.     I  come  to  thee. 

'  Just  as  I  am,  without  one  plea, 
But  that  thy  blood  was  shed  for  me. 
And  that  thou  bidst  me  come  to  thee, 
0  Lamb  of  God,  I  come  '  " 

Come  thus  and  he  may  save  you. 

"  But  that  seems  a  mean  way  of  coming  !  Do  you  think 
it  will  do  any  good  ?  " 

It  is  a  mean  way,  —  a  very  mean  way,  —  but  it  seems  to 
be  the  only  way  for  one  who  "  can't  love  him."  He  saved 
Saul,  the  persecutor  of  Christians.  Perhaps  he  may  save 
you.     At  all  events,  you  '11  perish  if  you  don't  come. 


PRUDY'S  KNITTING-WOEK.  251 


PRUDY'S    KNITTING-WORK. 

«  i^  DEAR ! "  said  Susy,  the  first  day  she  took  Priidy  to 

V>^  school,  "  I  wish  Prudy  had  n't  got  to  go  to  school ! 
She  '11  talk  out  loud,  I  just  about  know  she  will,  she 's  such  a 
chatter-box." 

"  No,  I  sha'n't,"  said  Prudy.  "  I  ain't  a  checker-box,  Susy 
Parlin,  but  you  are  !  I  sha'n't  talk  in  school,  nor  I  sha'n't 
whisper,  never  in  my  world." 

"When  they  got  home  that  night,  Mrs.  Parlin  said,  "  Well, 
Prudy,  did  you  whisper  in  school  ?  " 

"  No,  I  never  done  such  a  thing,  —  I  guess.  Did  I,  Susy  ? 
How  much  I  did  n't  talk  to  you,  don't  you  know  ?  " 

"  She  was  pretty  good,  mother,  but  she  cried  once,  so  I 
had  to  go  out  with  her,"  said  Susy. 

"  Now  you  told  me  to  cry,  Susy  Parlin  !  You  said  if  I  'd 
cry  you  'd  give  me  a  piece  of  your  doughnut !  " 

Susy  blushed,  and  her  mother  looked  at  her  and  said,  "  I 
want  to  see  you  alone  a  little  while,  Susy." 

Then  Mrs.  Parlin  talked  with  Susy  in  the  parlor,  and  told 
her  how  wrong  it  was  to  deceive,  and  how  she  must  take  the 
care  of  her  little  sister,  and  set  her  a  good  example. 

Susy  said  she  would  do  as  well  as  she  could.  "  But, 
mother,"  said  she,  "  if  you  are  willing,  I  'd  rather  not  sit 
with  Prudy,  now  certainly !  She  says  such  queer  things. 
Why,  to-day  she  said  she  had  got  the  rheumatism  in  her 
back,  and  wanted  me  to  look  at  her  tongue,  and  see  if  she 
had  n't !  Why,  mother,  she  shut  up  her  eyes,  and  put  out 
her  tongue  right  there  in  school,  and  the  girls  could  n't  help 
laughing." 

"  Well,  perhaps  she  'd  better  sit  by  herself,"  said  Mrs. 
Parlin.  "  I  guess  I  '11  let  her  take  her  knitting-work :  that 
will  keep  her  out  of  mischief." 

Now  grandma  had  taken  a  great  deal  of  pains  to  teach 


252  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

Prudy  to  knit ;  and  such  work  as  Prudy  made  of  it !  She 
thought  she  was  knitting  a  stocking,  but  I  guess  you  would  n't 
have  thought  so  ! 

The  first  time  Prudy  carried  her  knitting-work,  the  ABC 
scholars  opened  their  eyes  very  wide,  for  none  of  them  knew 
how  to  knit. 

Prudy  said,  "  Poh,  I  know  how  to  do  it  just  as  easy ! " 

So  she  tried  to  show  them  how  smart  she  could  be,  and  she 
knit  so  fast  that  she  dropped  a  stitch  every  other  minute. 

"  There,  there  now,  you  are  dropping  stitches,"  said  Lottie 
Palmer,  very  much  pleased.  "  I  guess  I  know  how  to  do 
that!'' 

"  Poh,  them  's  only  loops,''  said  Prudy. 

But  at  last  she  broke  the  yarn  short  off,  and  got  her  work 
into  such  a  fix  that  she  had  to  take  it  home  and  ask  grandma 
to  "fix  it  out." 

"  Why,  child,  where  's  the  ball  ? "  said  grandma  ;  "  and 
here  's  two  needles  gone  ! " 

"01  left  'em  at  school,  I  s'pose,"  said  Prudy ;  "  I  never 
noticed  'em." 

"I  found  the  ball  under  the  teacher's  desk  once,"  said 
Susy. 

"  Well,  it  ain't  there  now,"  said  Prudy  ;  "  it 's  all  wounded, 
now,  and  I  put  it  where  it  b'longs." 

"  Where  's  that  ?  "  said  grandma. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Prudy,  "  but  I  guess  I  can  find  it 
to-morrow." 

Mrs.  Parlin  began  to  think  it  was  a  foolish  plan  to  let 
Prudy  take  her  knitting-work.  I  will  tell  you  what  she  did 
the  last  day  she  carried  it.  She  got  tired  of  knitting,  and 
tired  of  twisting  her  hair  round  her  finger,  and  tired  of  look- 
ing at  pictures. 

"  Let 's  guess  riddles,"  she  whispered  to  Nancy  Glover, 
who  sat  on  the  bench  with  her.  "  I  can  make  up  riddles 
just  as  easy.  There 's  something  in  this  room,  in  Miss  Par- 
ker's watch-pocket,  goes  tick,  tick.  Now  guess  that ;  that 's 
a  riddle." 


PRUDY'S  KNITTING-WORK.  253 

"  I  wish  you  'd  behave,  Prudy  Parlin,"  said  Nancy.  "  I  'm 
trying  to  get  my  spelling  lesson." 

Then  Nancy  turned  her  head  a  little  to  one  side,  and  went 
to  studying  as  hard  as  she  could,  for  it  was  almost  time  for 
her  class  to  be  called. 

All  at  once  Prudy  happened  to  look  at  Nancy's  ear,  and 
thought,  "  "What  funny  little  holes  folks  have  in  their  ears ! 
I  s'pose  they  go  clear  through !  I  guess  I  '11  put  my  knitting- 
needle  right  through  Nannie's  ear  when  she  's  a-studying. 
The  needle  will  look  so  funny  sticking  out  at  the  other 
end !  " 

So  Prudy  was  very  sly  about  it,  and  said  not  a  word,  but 
began  to  push  in  the  needle  with  all  her  might. 

0,  how  Nannie  screamed !  The  teacher  was  frightened, 
but  when  she  found  that  Nannie  was  not  so  very  badly  hurt, 
she  felt  easier  about  her,  and  began  to  talk  to  Prudy,  and 
asked  her  "  why  she  did  n't  sit  still  like  a  lady,  and  mindf  " 

Prudy  began  to  cry. 

"  I  was  a-minding,"  said  she,  "  of  course  I  was.  I  did  n't 
think  it  was  a-goin'  to  hurt  her  !  " 

Miss  Parker  smiled,  and  said,  — 

"  Well,  you  need  n't  bring  that  knitting-work  here  any 
more.  The  next  thing,  we  should  have  somebody's  eyes  put 
out." 

Then  Miss  Parker  called  out  the  next  class  in  spelling. 
But  Nannie  sat  with  her  head  down,  and  felt  very  cross. 

"  I  don't  like  you,  Prudy,"  said  she.  "  You  'most  killed 
me  !     I  '11  pay  you  for  this,  now  you  see  !  " 

Miss  Parker  had  to  call  Nannie  by  name  before  she  would 
go  to  her  class.  She  was  three  or  four  years  older  than 
Prudy,  and  ought  to  have  known  better  than  to  be  angry 
with  such  a  little  child. 


254  HOUSEHOLD  EEADING. 


THE   POWER   OF   LITTLE   THINGS. 

WHEN  Dr.  Beecher  was  at  Litchfield,  Connecticut,  he 
called  on  a  family  in  the  remote  part  of  his  parish, 
and  found  the  wife  and  mother  in  tears.  Suspecting  the  cause, 
he  sat  down  by  her  side,  and  asked  compassionately,  "  "Which 
is  it  ?  "  She  answered  in  anguish,  "  Both."  The  husband 
had  for  some  time  been  verging  toward  intemperance,  and 
now  the  son  had  begun  to  follow  his  steps.  Indeed,  both  had 
become  drunkards.  It  was  more  than  she  could  bear.  It  had 
broken  her  heart. 

The  Doctor  rose  and  returned  home  and  went  into  his 
study,  determined  to  open  all  his  embrasures  upon  the  sin  of 
intemperance !  He  planned  and  studied  and  wrote  "  the  six 
sermons  "  on  intemperance,  which,  like  successive  shocks  of  a 
mighty  earthquake,  made  the  nation  to  tremble.  This  may 
be  regarded  as  the  inauguration  of  the  Temperance  Reform ; 
second,  perhaps,  to  no  other  moral  reformation  that  has 
visited  and  blessed  the  civilized  world.  A  tear  moved  the 
heart  and  tongue  of  the  Doctor  to  ask  the  cause  of  that  grief, 
which  was  too  great  to  admit  of  more  than  a  word  in  reply. 
That  tear,  how  small ;  that  word,  how  brief,  but  how  signifi- 
cant !  The  good  Doctor  had  seen  many  a  husband  and 
brother,  father  and  son,  fall  into  a  drunkard's  grave.  That 
was  no  strange  thing.  He  had  preached  many  a  funeral  ser- 
mon over  the  drunkard's  coffin.  But  these  great  facts  had 
not  moved  him  effectually.  Christian  philanthropists  had 
long  seen  and  trembled  in  view  of  the  ruin  of  the  nation  by 
intemperance  ;  but  this  one  simple,  touching  scene  ;  that  tear 
and  that  word  "  both,"  were  wanted  to  break  the  spell  and 
move  the  heart  and  hgind  and  will  of  this  great  reformer.  "  In 
the  morning  sow  thy  seed,  in  the  evening  withhold  not  thy 
hand,  for  thou  knowest  not  whether  shall  prosper  either  this 
or  that." 


HOW  LONG   SHALL  I  LIVE  ?  255 

Deacon  Scudder  related  to  me  the  following  anecdote  of 
liimself :  "  When  I  was  a  boy  I  was  apprenticed  to  a  business 
house  in  Boston.  As  I  was  about  to  leave  home  for  the  great 
city,  I  went  over  to  bid  my  aged  grandmother  good  by. 
When  I  was  about  to  leave  her,  full  of  joy  and  glee  in  antici- 
pation of  what  was  before  me,  she  called  me  to  her  bedside 
and  said,  with  many  other  excellent  things,  '  Charles,  if  you 
should  see  a  pin  on  the  carpet  of  your  mistress,  to  whom 
would  that  pin  belong  ?  '  'To  her,  I  suppose,  grandmother.' 
'  Then  pick  it  up  and  give  it  to  her  and  not  keep  it  yourself ! 
Never,  my  child,  take  so  much  as  a  pin  that  does  not  belong 
to  you,'  This,"  said  the  Deacon,  "  I  never  forgot.  When- 
ever I  was  tempted  to  take  any  little  trifle  that  was  not  my 
own,  I  could  hear  my  old  grandmother  saying,  '  Charles,  never 
take  so  much  as  a  pin  that  does  n't  belong  to  you.'  " 

The  human  character  is  created  or  lost  by  trifles.  It  is  un- 
derji:)mned,  or  undermined,  by  very  little  things.  In  other 
matters  the  foundations  are  of  great  things,  but  in  morals  and 
imperishable  character  they  are  of  little  things. 


HOW    LONG    SHALL    I    LIVE? 

YOU  will  live  forever. 
There  are  no  dead.  The  blow  which  struck  asunder 
body  and  spirit  did  not  end  the  spirit's  life.  And  so  the 
countless  myriads  of  the  past,  whose  dust  has  long  since 
mingled  with  the  soil,  "  still  live."  The  men,  women,  and 
children  of  Noah's  day,  and  Abraham's,  and  David's,  —  the 
motley  tribes  that  herded  beneath  the  crescent  of  the  Arabian 
prophet,  —  the  swarms  of  Goth  and  Hun,  Tartar  and  Vandal, 
that  swept  the  plains  of  the  Eastern  world,  —  the  red-men  that 
roamed  the  forests  of  the  Western  world,  and  left  in  mounds 
and  tree-grown  ruins  the  dim  history  of  their  earthly  exist- 


256  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

ence^ — all  these  are  yet  alive.  They  cannot  die.  Immortality 
is  their  birthright  and  inheritance.  With  the  first  breath  of 
life  they  inhaled  immortality. 

You,  too,  are  henceforth  eternal.  The  life  you  have  begun 
is  an  endless  life.  You  have  only  crossed  the  threshold.  The 
countless  ages  before  you  stretch  out  in  immeasurable  dis- 
tance. When  you  have  trod  the  path  of  those  years  or  mil- 
lions of  years  which  you  can  reckon  up,  there  will  still  be  be- 
fore you  as  many  more,  fresh  and  new  like  the  first,  and  so  on 
for  ever  and  ever.  As  a  traveller  can  discern  his  pathway 
winding  among  the  hills,  till  far  off  on  the  horizon  it  seems  to 
end,  but  when  he  reaches  the  place  there  stretches  the  path 
again  away  to  another  hill-top,  so  will  the  ages  of  your  endless 
life  lie  before  you  ever  the  same,  age  following  age,  cycle  fol- 
lowing cycle,  till  all  your  powers  of  computation  and  measure- 
ment have  been  baffled  and  silenced  ;  and  yet  you  have  scarce 
begun  !  The  never-ending  eternity  stretches  out  just  as  far 
ahead  as  when  you  took  the  first  step  of  the  journey. 

How  long  will  you  live  ?  You  never  will  cease  to  live. 
You  cannot  die.  By  the  endowment  of  your  Maker  you  bear 
a  "  charmed  life  "  ;  and  whatever  rounds  and  epochs  of  history 
the  great  universe  shall  yet  pass  through,  your  years  shall 
run  parallel  with  them  all,  —  nay,  with  the  eternal  years  of 
God. 

Ah  me  !  My  birthright,  immortality,  weighs  on  my  heart. 
I  tremble.  I  shrink  from  the  burden.  Those  myriad  ages 
fill  me  with  dread.  From  the  bosom  of  those  far-off  distan- 
ces I  know  not  what  strange  thing  may  befall  me.  Some  ac- 
cident shall  doubtless  waylay  me  on  the  road.  Some  misstep 
to  the  right  hand  or  the  left  shall  bring  my  soul  to  some  un- 
foreseen and  fatal  plunge. 

No.  On  the  highway  of  heaven  none  fall.  In  the  hollows 
of  hell  none  rise.  You  have  fixed  your  state  forever  when 
you  leave  this  world.  The  case  is  closed.  You  have  either 
married  yourself  to  Christ  with  an  eternal  love  which  no  pos- 
sibility can  sunder,  or  have  entombed  your  soul  in  sorrows 


HOW  LONG  SHALL  I  LIVE?  257 

wliicli  no  possibility  can  lift  off.  All  change  must  be  made 
this  side  the  grave  ;  there  is  no  change  beyond.  The  prepara- 
tion must  be  finished  here,  for  there,  there  is  no  time.  Time 
is  ended,  and  you  are  in  eternity.  The  decree  is  unalterable : 
"  He  who  is  filthy,  let  him  be  filthy  still ;  he  who  is  holy,  let 
him  be  holy  still." 

Do  you  not  see  it,  my  friend  ?  Have  not  all  the  men, 
women,  and  children  of  the  patriarchs'  days,  —  the  tribes  that 
followed  the  false  prophets,  —  the  swarms  of  Goth,  Hun, 
Vandal,  Tartar,  and  red-men  alike,  —  found  that  time  was 
give  them  to  prepare  for  eternity  ? 

"  Those  eighteen,  upon  whom  the  tower  in  Siloam  fell  and 
slew  them,  think  ye  that  they  were  sinners  above  all  men  that 
dwelt  in  Jerusalem  ?  I  tell  you  nay  ;  but  except  ye  repent, 
ye  shall  all  likewise  perish."  "  Strange,"  cries  Fenelon, 
"  that  the  experience  of  so  many  ages  did  not  make  us  judge 
more  solidly  of  the  present  and  of  the  future,  so  as  to  take 
proper  measures  in  the  one  for  the  other.  We  dote  upon  this 
world  as  if  it  were  never  to  have  an  end,  and  we  neglect  the 
next  as  if  it  were  never  to  have  a  beginning." 

How  long  will  you  live  ?  You  will  live  forever.  And 
your  life  there  will  depend  on  your  life  here.  Every  day,  as 
you  complete  it,  will  reappear  in  the  years  to  come.  Every 
hour,  every  moment,  as  it  hurries  on  its  way,  leaves  a  page 
to  be  read  before  the  throne.  Every  word,  every  act,  every 
thought  and  feeling  of  your  heart  records  itself  imperishably 
in  the  memory  of  One  who  never  forgets.  You  are  writing 
your  life  for  eternity. 

In  a  gallery  in  Paris  hangs  a  famous  picture  of  Murillo,  of 
an  old  Spanish  monk  seated  at  his  desk.  He  had  begun  the 
chronicle  of  his  life.  Death  had  summoned  him  before  the 
work  was  done ;  but  he  had  sought  and  obtained  leave  to 
return  to  earth  and  finish  it.  You  see  in  the  monk's  pale 
face  a  more  than  natural  energy.  Those  sunken  eyes  had 
looked  "  beyond  the  veil,"  and  gleam  with  the  visions  of 
eternity.     The  soul  within  has  communc-d  with  the  unseen 

17 


258  HOUSEHOLD  EEADING. 

world,  and  beheld  face  to  face  "  Him  who  is  invisible."  And 
the  solitaiy  task  is  plied  with  the  earnestness  of  one  who  has 
already  forgotten  the  fading  scenes  of  time,  and  is  absorbed 
in  the  realities  beyond. 

So  let  the  record  of  your  life  be  written  as  in  the  light  of 
eternity.  Look  beyond,  and  see  the  unutterable  things  which 
shall  soon  surround  you,  when  you  stand  before  your  Judge. 
Behold  your  endless  life,  —  your  speedy  departure.  0  heed- 
less soul,  I  adjure  you  to  prepare  for  that  eternity,  —  and 
write  now  such  a  life-record  of  faith  in  Jesus  Christ  and 
obedient  service  toward  him,  as  that  you  may  read  it  in 
eternity  with  joy. 


INVITATION  TO  THE  SABBATH  SCHOOL. 

COME  to  the  Sabbath  school, 
Come  one  and  all ; 
With  hearts  true  and  joyful, 

Echo  the  call. 
We  '11  go  with  willing  feet, 

Happy  faces  we  shall  meet, 
And  faithful  teachers  greet, — 
Come,  come  to-day. 

Come,  fathers,  lead  the  way 

Come,  mothers,  too  ; 
Come  every  Sabbath  day. 

We  '11  follow  you. 
There  will  we  join  and  sing, 

And  the  heart's  best  music  bring, 
While  all  our  voices  ring. 

With  hymns  of  praise. 

Come  in  the  joys  of  youth, 

Come  bright  and  gay. 
Come  join  the  search  for  truth. 

Come  while  you  may. 


ADVICE   TO   YOUNG   PREACHERS.  25D 

Improve  life's  opening  dawn, 
Seize  upon  its  sunny  morn, 
Nor  wait  till  it  be  gone, 

Ne'er  to  return. 

Come,  little  ones  and  dear, 

Come,  children  all. 
Sweet  is  your  welcome  here, 
Gentle  the  call ; 
"Suffer  to  come  to  me, 

Such  as  these,  and  let  them  be," 
Heirs  of  salvation  free,  — 

Come,  children,  come. 

Come,  let  our  school  below, 

Point  us  above. 
Where  glory  wreathes  the  brow, 

And  all  is  love, 
There,  in  a  noble  song. 

With  the  bright  angelic  throng, 
May  we  with  joy  prolong 

The  Saviour's  praise. 


ADVICE  TO  YOUNG  PREACHERS. 

WHAT  is  good  preaching  ?  Good  preaching  Tj  Scrip- 
tural preaching,  including,  as  to  the  matter  of  it, 
both  the  doctrinal  and  the  practical ;  and  each  in  due  method 
and  proportion.  A  doctrinal  sermon,  with  no  practical  ap- 
plication, is  a  skeleton  without  flesh,  or  rather  a  basis  with- 
out a  superstructure.  A  practical  sermon  without  doctrine, 
is  a  superstructure  without  a  base,  —  a  soap-bubble,  a  will-of- 
the-wisp,  beautiful  it  may  be  to  the  sight,  but  destined  soon 
to  disappear  and  leave  not  a  trace  behind.  Every  direction 
or  exhortation  of  the  Bible  is  based  upon  some  doctrine,  and 


260  HOUSEHOLD  KEADING. 

has  no  meaning  or  application  without  it.  "  Flee  from  the 
wrath  to  come."  "  Believe  on  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and 
thou  shalt  be  saved."  "  Repent  and  be  converted,  that  your 
sins  may  be  blotted  out."  How  much  important  doctrine  is 
involved  in  exhortations  such  as  these !  And  how  can  the 
exhortations  be  applied  and  enforced,  so  as  to  leave  an  abid- 
ing impression,  unless  the  implied  doctrines  are  believed  and 
inculcated  ? 

More  than  thirty  years  ago,  the  late  Dr.  Beecher,  on  one 

of  his  fishing  excursions,  spent  the  Sabbath  at .      He 

was  there  incognito,  in  his  rough  fishing  habit ;  but  this  did 
not  prevent  him  from  going  to  church.  He  heard  a  dry 
skeleton  of  a  sermon,  with  little  or  no  application,  from  a 
young  man  who  prided  himself  upon  his  orthodoxy.  "When 
the  service  was  through,  and  the  people  were  about  to  retire, 
the  Doctor  arose  in  the  back  part  of  the  house,  and  begged  to 
be  heard  for  a  few  moments.  He  had  been  interested  in  the 
discussion  to  which  they  had  listened,  but  was  unwilling  that 
so  much  important  Scriptural  truth  should  be  left  without 
any  practical  application.  And  so  he  went  on  to  apply  the 
sermon,  for  some  twenty  minutes,  in  his  earnest  way,  much 
to  the  gratification  of  a  large  audience,  and  much  to  the 
mortification  of  the  young  divine,  who  was  still  in  the  pulpit. 

I  am  aware  that  many  stories  are  told,  of  Dr.  Beecher 
which  are  apocryphal ;  but  as  I  was  personally  knowing  to 
the  one  I  have  related,  and  knew  the  parties,  this  may  be 
relied  on  as  genuine.  And  I  tell  it  here,  because  it  goes  to 
illustrate  the  point  in  hand,  namely,  the  importance  of  unit- 
ing the  doctrinal  and  practical  in  due  method  and  proportion. 
Preach  doctrinally,  my  brethren,  that  so  you  may  be  able  to 
preach  practically,  and  to  do  it  with  some  show  of  sense,  and 
with  effect.  For  what  is  practical  preaching  but  the  earnest 
enforcement  and  application  of  some  great  Scriptural  truth 
or  fact  ? 

Among  the  more  important  qualities  of  a  sermon,  as  to 
style,  I  reckon  plainness  and  directness.     The  first  thing  is 


ADVICE   TO   YOUNG   PREACHERS.  261 

to  be  understood.  Paul  had  rather  sj^eak  "  five  words  with 
tlie  understanding,"  that  is,  so  as  to  be  understood,  tlian  "ten 
tliousand  words  in  an  unknown  tongue."  And  on  this  point 
I  fully  agree  with  Paul.  Very  early  in  my  ministry  I  came 
to  the  conclusion,  that,  whatever  other  good  qualities  as  a 
preacher  I  might  lack,  I  would  speak  plainly,  I  would  en- 
deavor to  be  understood.  And  this  point  I  flatter  myself 
that  I  have  in  some  good  degree  attained.  At  least,  I  have 
never  heard  much  complaint  on  this  score.  Whether  men 
have  liked  my  preaching  or  not,  they  have  generally  been 
able  to  understand  me. 

Want  of  plainness  and  directness  in  preaching  is  not  an 
uncommon  fault  at  this  day,  and  it  arises  from  several- 
causes.  Some  do  not  preach  clearly,  because  they  have 
nothing  clear  in  their  minds  to  be  preached.  They  live  in  a 
fog  ;  their  heads  are  muddy,  and  how  should  anything  better 
than  mud  or  fog  proceed  out  of  them  ?  Such  men  had  bet- 
ter retire  from  the  pulpit  altogether. 

Some  fail  to  speak  plainly  and  effectively,  from  the  desire 
to  say  something  exquisite  and  beautiful.  And  so  (to  use 
the  language  of  another),  "  they  delight  in  rainbows,  and 
meteors,  and  waterfalls,  and  blooming  trellises,  and  showers 
of  gems,  and  trooping  seraphim,  and  the  silver  chiming  of 
the  spheres,"  and  all  such  kind  of  stuff,  —  immensely  pleas- 
ant to  itching  ears,  but  as  foreign  from  the  Gospel  as  are  the 
pretty  things  of  which  they  treat. 

Some  preachers  involve  themselves  in  mystery,  because 
they  seem  to  think  it  vulgar  to  utter  plain  truth  in  a  plain 
and  natural  way.  You  rarely  see  them  without  their  stilts. 
They  seek  out  uncommon  words,  —  "great  swelling  words," 
and  construct  long,  involved,  and  cumbrous  sentences,  and 
thus  cover  up  what  little  of  meaning  they  have  under  a 
lumber  of  style  and  verbiage,  which  no  eyes  but  their  own 
will  be  likely  to  penetrate.  Such  men  may  gain  the  admira- 
tion of  those  who  are  sure  to  admire  what  they  cannot  com- 
prehend ;  but  what  good  will  they  be  likely  to  do  ?  Who 
will  be  instructed  or  profited  ? 


262  HOUSEHOLD  EEADING. 

If  I  were  to  mention  another  cause  of  soaring  mystery  and 
obscurity  in  preaching,  it  would  be  the  transcendental,  Cole- 
ridgean  philosophy.  Persons  enamored  of  this  philosophy 
are  never  clear.  They  have  a  phraseology  of  their  own,  a 
region  of  their  own,  but  it  is  high  up,  in  nuhibus,  where 
common  people  can  never  follow  them.  -I  have  known  some 
young  men,  with  minds  naturally  as  clear  as  crystal,  so  be- 
fooled and  befogged  by  this  philosophy  that  it  took  years  of 
practical,  common-sense  labor  to  work  it  out  of  them. 

I  have  heard  preaching  compared  to  lightning,  of  which 
it  is  said  there  are  three  kinds,  —  the  flash,  the  zigzag,  and 
the  slant.  The  flash  looks  brilliantly,  lights  up  the  sky,  and 
people  gaze  at  it  with  wonder  and  delight.  The  zigzag  is 
here,  and  there,  and  everywhere,  darting  from  cloud  to 
cloud,  without,  any  apparent  object  or  effect.  But  the 
slant  sends  its  bolt  right  down  to  the  earth,  and  rives  the 
gnarled  oak,  and  is  mighty,  through  God,  to  the  tearing 
down  of  strongholds.  Be  sure,  my  brethren,  if  you  deal  in 
any  lightning,  to  prefer  the  slant. 

If  I  were  to  add  a  word  further  as  to  manner,  I  would 
say,  let  it  be  natural.  Avoiding,  correcting,  all  acquired 
bad  habits,  endeavor  to  write  and  speak  in  your  own  natural 
way.  Be  yourself,  and  not  another.  Better  wear  your  own 
coat  than  a  borrowed  one,  though  it  may  not  be  quite  as 
good.  You  will  be  more  free  and  easy  in  it,  and  your 
efforts  will  be  more  successful. 

The  famous  Mr.  Moody  of  York  was  an  extemporaneous 
preacher,  and  somewhat  rambling  and  eccentric  in  manner. 
It  was  natural  to  him,  and  he  could  not  help  it.  He  had  a 
son-in-law,  Mr.  Emerson  of  Maiden,  who  preached  for  him 
frequently,  wrote  out  his  sermons  very  accurately,  and 
preached  from  notes.  Some  of  Mr.  Moody's  people  were 
much  pleased  with  this  kind  of  preaching,  and  urged  him  to 
imitate  it.  .-^o  Mr.  Moody  consented  to  try.  He  wrote  out 
a  sermon  in  full,  took  his  notes  with  him  into  the  pulpit, 
and   commenced  reading  like  Mr.  Emerson.     But  he   soon 


ADVICE  TO  YOUNG  PREACHERS.  263 

got  hred  of  it,  and  threw  away  his  notes,  exclaiming, 
"  Moody  must  be  Moody,  and  Emerson,  Emerson  !  I  feel 
as  though  my  head  was  in  a  bag  !  "  Be  careful,  my  young 
friends,  when  you  undertake  to  change  your  own  natural 
manner  for  that  of  another,  lest  you  get  into  the  same  pre- 
dicament. 

But  a  more  important  quality  of  effective  preaching  is 
heart  earnestness.  No  man  ever  accomplished  anything  in 
the  pulpit  who  was  not  in  earnest.  Paul  believed,  and  felt 
what  he  said,  and  hence  his  words  were  with  power.  It  was 
this  which  made  Felix  tremble,  and  wrung  from  the  reluctant 
lips  of  Agrippa,  "  Almost  thou  persuadest  me  to  be  a  Chris- 
tian." Deep  feeling  is  contagious.  Words  poured  forth 
from  burning  hearts  are  sure  to  kindle  the  hearts  of  others. 
A  tear-drop  is  a  very  little  thing,  and  yet  it  is  a  thing  of 
great  power.  Hearts  that  can  withstand  everything  else 
are  often  melted  by  a  tear.  Of  course,  I  would  not  have 
sermons  mere  ebullitions  of  feeling,  and  nothing  else ;  but 
I  would  have  them  pervaded  and  warmed  with  feeling. 
There  must  be  thought  to  awaken  feeling,  and  the  Gospel 
is  full  of  thought  —  I  had  almost  said,  all  thought  —  adapted 
to  this  very  purpose.  Be  sure  that  your  altar  candle,  besides 
being  straight  and  orthodox,  is  made  to  burn  ;  that  your 
sermon  has  a  soul  as  well  as  a  body,  and  that  in  writing  and 
delivering  it  your  heart  palpitates  in  every  line. 

The  good  pastor  will  make  himself  acquainted  with  his 
flock,  and  with  all  of  them.  He  will  be  able  to  adopt  the 
language  of  his  divine  Master,  though  of  course  in  a  lower 
sense,  "  I  know  my  sheep,  and  am  known  of  mine."  He 
will  become  acquainted  with  them,  not  only  socially,  but 
spiritually.  So  far  as  he  may,  he  will  know  particularly 
their  spiritual  state  ;  what  are  their  hopes,  their  fears,  their 
trials,  their  difficulties,  their  temptations,  and  what  their 
prospects  for  eternity.  Without  such  knowledge,  how  can 
he  intelligently  preach  to  them,  or  watch  over  them,  or  bear 
them  on  his  heart  in  prayer  ? 


264  HOUSEHOLD  EEADING. 

The  qualifications  of  a  good  pastor  are  many  and  various, 
the  crowning  one  of  wliicli,  and  that  without  which  all 
others  will  be  as  nothing,  is  piety.  The  good  pastor  must 
be  a  pious  man.     He  ought  to  be  a  very  pious  man. 

Piety  is  lovely  and  excellent  in  all  its  developments,  not 
one  of  which  should  be  wanting  to  the  ambassador  of  Christ. 
And  yet,  if  I  were  to  name  one  which  I  deem  of  special  im- 
portance to  the  pastor,  it  would  be  an  ardent  and  quench- 
less love  for  souls.  He  should  feel  for  souls,  in  his  measure, 
as  Christ  did,  who  was  willing  to  die  for  their  salvation.  He 
should  feel  as  Brainerd  did,  who  thus  speaks  of  himself  dur- 
ing his  life  among  the  Indians  :  "I  cared  not  where  or  how 
I  lived,  or  what  hardships  I  endured,  so  that  I  could  gain 
souls  to  Christ.  When  I  was  asleep  I  dreamed  of  them  ; 
and  when  I  awoke  the  first  thing  I  thought  of  was  their 
salvation."  Under  impressions  such  as  these,  the  minister 
of  Christ  will  not  be  much  moved  by  personal  sacrifices. 
He  will  be  willing  to  waive  often,  not  merely  his  private 
opinions  and  wishes,  but  his  rights  and  interests,  rather  than 
incur  the  hazard  of  hindering  the  recovery  of  some  whom  he 
desires  to  save.  Knowing  that,  in  the  various  walks  of  life, 
he  has  to  do  with  immortal  beings,  who  are  constantly 
watching  him,  and  receiving  impressions  from  his  example, 
he  will  be  exceedingly  cautious  as  to  the  steps  he  takes.  He 
will  tread  softly  and  circumspectly,  as  he  mingles  with  un- 
dying souls,  lest  by  some  indiscretion  he  should  fatally  injure 
them 

Speculate  as  we  may  as  to  the  desirableness  of  other 
methods  of  promoting  the  cause  of  Christ,  it  is  still  true 
that  almost  all  the  great  movements  in  favor  of  religion, 
from  the  beginning  to  the  present  time,  have  been  brought 
about  in  revivals,  and  by  means  of  them.  Thus  it  was  in 
the  great  refreshing  and  church  extension  which  immediately 
followed  the  day  of  Pentecost.  Thus  it  was  in  the  Reforma- 
tion of  the  sixteenth  century,  when,  by  a  series  of  what  would 
now  be  called  revivals.  Popish  idolatry  was  subverted  in  more 


ADVICE   TO   YOUNG   PREACHERS.  265 

than  half  Europe.  Thus  it  was  in  our  own  country  during 
the  great  awakening  of  1740.  And  ahiiost  everything  de- 
sirable in  our  present  religious  state  and  prospects,  —  our 
large  and  flourishing  churches,  our  thousands  of  faithful 
ministers,  our  Sabbath  schools,,  our  charitable  institutions, 
our  missions  to  the  heathen,  and  to  the  destitute  of  our  own 
country,  —  all  are  owing  to  that  series  of  revivals  which 
sprang  up  near  the  commencement  of  the  present  century, 
and  which  have  continued,  at  intervals,  ever  since.  The 
history  of  the  Church  has  but  one  voice  on  this  subject ;  and 
our  own  experience  and  observation  testify  the  same.  When 
revivals  cease,  for  a  course  of  years,  religion  uniformly  de- 
clines ;  and  unless  its  downward  progress  is  arrested  by  the 
return  of  the  reviving  Spirit,  it  is  sure  to  run  down,  and  ere- 
long to  run  out. 

I  repeat,  then,  my  brethren,  we  wish  and  expect  you  all 
to  be  revival  preachers,  —  the  friends  and  earnest  supporters 
of  revivals  of  religion.  Study  them,  pray  and  labor  for 
them ;  improve  opportunities  to  labor  in  them ;  keep  the 
holy  fire  burning;  in  your  own  souls,  and  endeavor  to  diffuse 
it  all  around  yn;i. 

And  be  ncn  so  particular  as  to  the  precise  manner  in 
which  a  revisal  shall  commence,  if  you  can  only  be  sure 
that  it  does  commence,  if  you  can  see  its  holy  fire  kindling 
and  burning  around  you.  I  oftice  knew  a  venerable  minister 
who  used  to  pray  that  God  would  revive  his  work,  and  revive 
it  in  a  regular  way,  as  though  he  feared  that  the  Divine 
Spirit  might  fall  into  some  irregularities.  I  am  not  the 
advocate  of  irregularities,  not  by  any  means  ;  but  better 
see  the  work  of  God  revived,  and  souls  converted,  and  the 
Church  enlarged,  though  not  in  the  methods  most  agree- 
able to  ourselves,  than  to  see  dearth,  and  frost,  and  death 
spreading  over  the  land,  and  cursing  it  forever. 


2^6  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 


ANECDOTES    OF    CLERGYMEN. 

WHEN  Dr.  (then  Mr.)  S was  first  settled  in  Hart- 
ford, the  enterprising  little  town  was  relatively  as  im- 
portant to  Connecticut  as  the  flourishing  city  now  is.  Dr. 
Bellamy,  feeling  a  deep  interest  in  the  success  of  the  church 
in  this  favored  spot,  resolved  to  visit  the  youthful  pastor  and 
"  see  if  he  would  do." 

On  arriving  at  the  residence  of  his  young  brother,  which 
was  a  new  house  and  nicely  furnished,  Dr.  Bellamy  remarked 

as  Mr.  S met  him  at  the  door,  "  So  you  have  got  your 

house  all  swept  and  garnished."     "  Yes,  yes.  Dr.  Bellamy,  all 
ready  for  evil  spirits  ;  walk  in,  walk  in." 

We  need  not  add  that  Dr.  Bellamy,  after  a  hearty  laugh, 
remarked,  "  He  '11  do,  he  '11  do." 

The  learned  Dr.  Samuel  West  once  preached  for  Rev.  Mr. 
Niles  of  A .  He  chose  for  his  text  that  passage  in  Reve- 
lation, "  His  number  is  six  hundred  threescore  and  six." 
After  talking  about  his  text  for  nearly  half  an  hour,  he  said 
to  his  hearers,  "  You  may  think  it  is  time  I  told  what  the  text 
means,  but  to  be  plain,  I  do  not  hnoiv.''^ 

Mr.  Niles  afterward  remarked,  that  he  was  very  glad  to  hear 

Dr.  W acknowledge  his  ignorance,  for  he  knew  that  he 

did  not  know  the  meaning  of  the  passage,  and  as  he  was  a 
learned  man  he  could  afford  to  say  so. 

Many  years  ago  an  immense  meeting  of  the  friends  of  tem- 
perance was  held  at  the  Odeon,  in  Boston.  After  two  very  elo- 
quent addresses  by  gifted  and  popular  speakers,  a  clergyman 
was  called  upon.  Rising,  he  remarked,  "  I  find  myself  in 
very  much  the  same  situation  as  that  of  a  minister  who,  in  the 
early  history  of  Massachusetts,  although  living  in  a  retired 
spot,  was  appointed  to  preach  the  election  sermon.  When 
told  of  his  appointment  he  said,  "  I  know  not  what  to  do.  If 
I  do  not  go,  my  people  will  knock  my  brains  out,  and  if  I  do 
go,  it  will  be  found  that  I  have  no  brains." 


THE   JESTING  DEACON.  267 

At  a  meeting  of  an  ecclesiastical  council  for  ordaining  a 
youthful  minister,  an  elderly  clergyman  who  was  fond  of  hair- 
splitting questions,  but  himself  no  metaphysician,  inquired  in 
examining  the  candidate,  "  How  do  you  reconcile  the  decree 
of  God  with  the  free  agency  of  man?"  "I  have  never  at- 
tempted to  reconcile  them,  because  they  were  never  at  vari- 
ance." 


THE    JESTING    DEACON. 

"  Neither  foolish  talking  nor  jesting,  which  are  not  convenient."  —  Eph.  v.  4. 

DEACON  JONES  relished  a  joke  as  well  as  any  of  his  unti- 
tled neighbors.  It  seemed  sometimes  that  he  addicted 
himself  to  this  sort  of  pleasantry  all  the  more  freely  because, 
being  a  deacon,  folks  —  especially  young  folks  —  were  the  more 
ready  to  laugh  at  his  quips  as  coming  from  a  quarter  where  you 
would  not  expect  them.  But  Deacon  Jones,  like  every  other 
good  Christian  who  indulges  in  jesting,  did  not  always  find  it 
"  convenient,"  either  in  the  modern  sense  of  that  word,  as 
comfortable^  or  in  its  Scriptural  meaning  as  suitable.  On  one 
occasion  this  humorous  propensity  brought  him  into  the  fol- 
lowing very  uncomforta,ble,  not  to  say  unsuitable,  position. 

Richard  Vaughn,  a  daring  and  reckless  fellow,  who  had 
met  with  a  hundred  hairbreadth  escapes  before,  was  one  day 
kicked  hy  a  horse  somewhere  about  the  head.  His  skull  was 
fractured,  and  poor  Dick  had  to  submit  to  a  trepanning  oper- 
ation, —  the  removal  of  a  small  piece  of  the  skull-bone.  Still, 
nobody  believed  that  his  time  had  come  to  die.  He  who  had 
outlived  so  many  mishaps  would  survive  the  kick  of  a  horse, 
even  if,  with  a  piece  of  his  skull,  he  had  lost  a  portion  of  his 
brain,  too.  So  the  gabbling  neighbors  said  as  they  passed 
the  news  round  from  one  to  another,  and  so  Jonathan  Slack 
thougJit  as  he  met  Deacon  Jones  coming  from  the  door  where 


268  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

Richard  lived,  and  asked  him  in  honest  simplicity  how  much 
brains  the  doctor  had  taken  away  ?  Perceiving  in  Jonathan's 
face  a  credulity  that  might  yield  a  little  fun,  the  Deacon  made 
answer  by  putting  his  hands  together  in  the  form  of  a  dish 
which  would  hold  a  pint  —  of  brains  or  anything  else  that 
should  be  put  into  it —  and  merely  saying,  "  About  so  much." 
Jonathan  thereupon  went  his  way,  and  told  the  next  man 
he  met  that  the  doctor  had  taken  a  pint  of  brains  from  the 
skull  of  Richard  Yaughn.  The  astonished  neighbor  reported 
it  to  another,  and  he  to  a  third.  Before  sundown  every  man, 
woman,  and  child  in  the  village  had  heard  the  news  that  Dick 
Vaughn  had  parted  with  a  pint  of  his  brains  and  was  doing 
well.  Next  morning  the  village  Gazette,  which  caught  the 
story  just  in  time  for  its  insertion  as  a  "  postscript,"  with  suit- 
able heading  and  exclamation-points,  was  carrying  it  post- 
haste over  the  land,  and  in  less  than  twenty-four  hours  it  had 
started  through  the  columns  of  a  city  exchange  on  its  way  to 
England,  France,  and  Germany. 

It  could  not  be  long,  of  course,  before  the  story  began  to 
meet  with  contradiction  and  was  branded  as  a  lie.  But  who 
started  it?  This  was  now  the  question.  It  is  curious  to  ob- 
serve that,  however  eager  your  real  gossip-mongers  are  to  catch 
up  and  carry  along  an  unauthentic  tale,  they  will  always  re- 
sent the  charge  of  peddling  lies.  When  a  baseless  rumor  has 
been  run  out  of  breath  and  actually  killed,  nobody  has  lied^ 
but  everybody  has  been  lied  to.  Dick  told  Tom,  and  Harry 
told  Dick,  and  somebody  told  Harry.  Each  would  like  to 
know  the  villain  who  made  up  that  story  ;  while,  if  the  truth 
were  known,  it  might  appear  to  have  been  made  like  a  snow- 
ball, by  rolling,  and  every  one  of  them  to  have  had  a  hand  in 
making  it.  But  in  the  case  of  Dick  Vaughn's  brains,  the 
story  started,  as  we  have  seen,  in  its  full-grown  size. 

Deacon  Jones  at  first  enjoyed  the  joke,  and  was  intending 
soon  to  explain.  But  when  Mrs.  Jones,  with  a  concerned 
look,  told  him  one  day  that  Mr.  Slack,  who  had  been  accused 
of  setting  the  story  afloat,  was  reporting  all  over  town  that 


THE   JESTING   DEACON.  269 

lie,  Deacon  Jones,  told  him  the  first  that  he  ever  heard  of  it, 
the  Deacon  smilingly  said,  in  reply,  that  Brother  Slack  must 
be  mistaken  ;  that  he  never  had  told  Brother  Slack  nor  any- 
body else  that  the  doctor  took  away  a  pint  of  brains  or  any 
brains  at  all  from  Richard  Vaughn  ;  whereupon  Mrs.  Jones 
made  haste  to  tell  Mrs.  Slack. 

Here  was  a  flat  contradiction  between  Deacon  Jones  and 
Brother  Jonathan  Slack,  both  members  of  the  same  church, 
"  in  good  and  regular  standing,"  and  one  of  them  an  office- 
bearer in  it.  The  Deacon  felt  that  the  joke  had  been  carried 
quite  far  enough,  —  in  fact,  rather  too  far,  —  and  he  was 
intending  to  call  on  his  misled  neighbor  that  very  night,  and 
undeceive  him.  But  before  night  came,  Mr.  Slack  met  his 
neighbor  Jones  in  the  street,  and,  with  more  warmth  of  spirit 
than  he  was  thought  capable  of  showing,  asked  him  if  he 
meant  to  deny  that  he  (Deacon  Jones)  told  him  (Mr.  Slack) 
on  such  a  day,  that  the  doctor  took  a  pint  of  brains  from 
Richard  Vaughn  ? 

"  I  certainly  do,"  said  the  Deacon.  And  before  he  had 
time  to  enter  into  an  explanation,  Mr.  Slack  had  turned  on 
his  heel  and  hastened  off,  an  offended  l^rother.  The  difficulty 
was  not  long  in  getting  before  the  church  as  a  matter  to  be 
searched  into  and  settled.  Both  parties  were  brought  before 
that  tribunal  and  permitted  to  make  their  statements. 
Brother  Slack  was  sure  that  he  repeated  only  what  Deacon 
Jones  told  him.  He  even  recollected  and  reproduced  the 
dish-form  gesture  of  the  hands  whereby  he  had  been  given  to 
understand  that  a  pint  of  brains  had  been  taken  away  ;  and 
then  thrusting  his  clenched  hands  under  the  Deacon's  nose, 
as  he  sat  near  him,  he  asked,  with  an  air  of  assurance,  "  Did 
you  not  say.  Deacon  Jones,  that  the  doctor  took  away  so 
much  ? " 

"Yes,"  said  the  Deacon,  gazing  into  the  empty  palms, 
"  and  how  much  is  there.  Brother  Slack  ?  " 

A  suppressed  titter  ran  through  the  assembly.  The  pastor 
smiled  in  his  presiding  chair.     Brother  Slack,  now  for  the 


270  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

first  time  comprehending  the  joke,  stood  speechless  for  a  mo- 
ment, and  then,  with  hat  in  hand,  left  the  meeting,  too  deeply 
chagrined  to  be  ever  again  on  friendly  terms  with  the  jesting 
Deacon  Jones,  who,  as  a  kind  of  Protestant  penance,  listened 
soon  after  to  a  plain  and  self-applied  sermon  from  his  faithful 
pastor  on  the  text  at  the  head  of  this  paper.  To  the  end 
of  his  life  he  was  a  soberer  man  ;  and  when  he  found  a  Chris- 
tian brother  indulging  in  jokes  which  he  once  enjoyed,  he 
would  repeat,  in  a  serious  tone,  "  Foolish  talking  nor  jesting, 
which  are  not  convenient." 


"I    CAN'T    REPENT." 

EXPERIENCE  is  a  good  test  of  doctrinal  belief.  The  fol- 
lowing incident  may  serve  as  an  illustration  of  this. 

S ,  a  student  of  theology  at  a  certain  divinity  school, 

was  spending  a  vacation  in  a  destitute  country  parish,  as  a 
"  temporary  supply."  He  held  the  theory  (growing  out  of 
pushing  to  the  extreme  the  doctrine  of  human  inability)  that 
men  cannot  repent.  One  day  duty  called  him  to  a  neighbor- 
ing village.  His  only  means  of  public  conveyance  was  by 
stage,  the  driver  of  which  was  a  shrewd  sceptic. 

With  a  real  desire  to  honor  his  Master,  by  sowing  beside  all 
waters,  he  began  conversation  upon  topics  that  he  thought 
might  interest  the  driver,  intending  at  length  to  lead  to  the 
subject  of  personal  religion.  His  plan  was  successful.  Step 
by  step  the  way  was  opened,  till  he  deemed  it  prudent  to 
press  the  claims  of  God  upon  his  conscience  and  heart.  It 
was  done  with  plain  Christian  courtesy,  and,  as  the  driver 
afterwards  acknowledged,  was  felt  to  be  the  voice  of  the  Spirit 
of  God.  Determined,  however,  not  to  yield  at  once,  he  in- 
stantly repUed,  "  They  tell  us  out  here  in  P that  a  man 

can't  repent.     I  should  like  to  know  what  you  say  about  it." 


THOMAS   GUTHRIE.  271 

No  allusion  had  beeu  made  to  this  point  before.     S 


had  evidently  won  the  confidence  of  his  fellow-traveller,  for 

the  question  was  more  than  half  in  earnest.     It  was  S 

now,  and  not  the  driver,  who  was  driven  to  the  wall.  His 
thoughts  ran  with  lightning  speed  over  the  whole  ground. 
He  clearly  saw  the  consequences  of  saying  to  the  man,  under 
conviction,  as  he  really  was,  "low  cannot  repent.''^  He  dared 
not  risk  the  peril  in  which  such  an  aflSrmative  would  put  his 

hearer's  soul.     It  was  flashed  on  the  mind  of  S ,  with  a 

light  not  greatly  inferior  to  that  which  showed  a  certain  trav- 
eller to  Damascus  once  his  error  on  another  point  of  doc- 
trine, that  he  was  wrong.  He  can  repent  gushed  forth  from 
the  very  soul  of  S ,  and  stopped  not  short  of  a  most  fer- 
vid utterance  in  the  ear  of  the  driver.  Then  the  Spirit  met 
the  word,  and  sent  it  to  his  heart.  The  convicted  man  bowed 
his  head  and  wept  like  a  child.     Beginning  at  that  Scripture, 

S preached  unto  him  Jesus.     S proved  to  be  the 

first  to  put  him  on  his  personal  responsibility  before  God,  so 
as  to  lead  him  to  see  that  his  guilt  lay  solely  in  a  determined 

"  will  not."     It  need  not  be  added  that  S was  thereafter 

a  firm  believer  in  the  duty  and  ability  of  men  to  repent. 


THOMAS    GUTHRIE. 

REV.  THOMAS  GUTHRIE  was  born  in  Brechin  about 
1800.  His  father  was  a  wealthy  banker.  The  son  gradu- 
ated at  Edinburgh,  and  studied  medicine  at  Paris,  and  finally 
came  home  and  continued  in  the  banking-house.  In  1830 
he  was  ordained  by  the  Presbytery  of  Fife,  and  shortly  trans- 
lated to  old  Greyfriars,  Edinburgh,  and  in  1840  to  old  St. 
John's  Church,  which  was  !:/ailt  chiefly  for  him.  He  was 
one  of  the  leaders  with  Chalmers  in  the  Free-Church  move- 
ment, and  is  now  settled  over  Free  St.  John's,  a  fine  new 


272  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

church,  built  as  near  as  possible  to  the  old  one.  It  does  not 
look  altogether  pleasant  to  a  stranger,  to  see  in  Scotland  new 
churches  everywhere  planted  side  bj  side,  or,  if  possible,  face 
to  face,  with  the  old  ones,  instead  of  being  placed  in  the  un- 
reclaimed districts.  Dr.  Hanna,  son-in-law  of  Dr.  Chalmers, 
and  editor  of  his  memoirs,  is  colleague  pastor  in  this  fashion- 
able church.  His  ability  as  a  scholar  and  essayist  and 
theologian  does  not  succeed  in  making  him  tolerable  in  the 
pulpit.  But  his  dull,  tedious,  painfully  wearisome  preach- 
ing is  the  better  foil  to  his  colleague.  Dr.  Guthrie  has  been 
greatly  interested  in  the  ragged-school  movements,  and  went 
hand  in  hand  with  Chalmers  in  his  social  renovations.  He 
is  the  favorite  minister  of  the  poor,  though  few  of  them  can 
get  to  his  church.  He  is  a  man  of  most  popular  traits,  and 
commands  great  influence  among  his  brethren.  He  is  a 
leader  in  the  church  courts  and  assemblies,  where  he  shines 
and  sways  the  debate  by  ready  sallies  of  wit  and  sudden 
flashes  of  eloquence.  As  a  preacher,  his  reputation  perhaps 
is  not  exceeded  by  any  one  in  the  Free  or  National  Church, 
if  it  is  by  any  one  in  Scotland. 

There  could  not  be  a  better  testimonial  of  this  than  our 
experience  gave  us.  We  reached  the  church  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  before  the  time  of  service,  and  then  the  crowd  extended 
from  the  doorway  far  into  the  street.  By  the  time  of  the 
first  singing,  we  had  worked  our  way  into  the  entry  and 
could  look  through  a  door  into  the  audience-room.  And 
just  before  the  long  prayer,  after  the  struggling  mass  had 
made  several  ineffectual  rushes,  trampling  on  children,  or 
stifling  them,  and  carrying  away  the  outworks  of  ladies' 
dresses,  we  were  borne  of  more  than  four  down  into  a  side 
aisle  almost  to  the  pulpit.  Here  we  stood  an  hour  and  a 
half,  casting  wistful  glances  now  and  then  to  the  happy  sin- 
ners  who  had  got  a  pulpit  stair  or  banister  to  lean  against. 
This  was  no  extraordinary  occasion,  though  it  is  true  Dr. 
Guthrie  had  recently  returned  from  his  summer  vacation. 
But  this  crowd  was  to  hear  a  pastor  who  had  been  preaching 
more  than  ten  years  in  that  very  place. 


THOMAS    GUTHRIE.  273 

Dr.  Guthrie  is  of  stalwart  height  and  proportions.  His 
limbs  show  athletic  development,  and  his  features  are  mas- 
sive. His  large  head  is  crowned  with  long,  streaming  hair, 
and  his  fingers  find  frequent  occasion  to  pitch  it  away  from 
his  great  blue  eyes  and  off  from  his  wide  moorland  of  fore- 
head. He  wears  gown  and  bands.  But  the  scholastic, 
silken  folds  cannot  tame  the  wild,  awkward  energy  of  ges- 
ticulations of  such  a  live  Scotchman.  His  hands  go  above  his 
head,  or  are  flung  sheer  over  the  ledge  of  the  pulpit  cushion  ; 
and  his  long  arms  crook  into  angles  of  every  degree,  in  essay- 
ing majestic  sweeps.  And  when  he  sometimes  towers  for- 
ward and  then  sinks  back  upon  his  heels,  with  a  vehement 
energy  that  fairly  makes  his  knees  give  way,  you  instinc- 
tively looked  to  see  if  the  pulpit  is  real  oak  or  imitation. 

The  rich  volume  of  sermons,  entitled  the  "  Gospel  in  Eze- 
kiel,"  presents  Dr.  Guthrie's  peculiar  excellences  and  defects 
so  admirably  that  little  need  be  said.  In  noble,  poetic  dic- 
tion, in  affluence  of  vivid  illustrations,  in  absolute,  passionate 
enthusiasm  for  natural  scenery,  and  the  keenest  apprecia- 
tion of  every  delicate  shade  and  shadow  of  beauty,  in  in- 
tuitive power  of  detecting,  and  the  most  copious  and  apt 
facility  of  de?'.i'ibing  natural  scenes,  he  rivals  Professor  Wil- 
son. He  rescaibles  him  also,  not  only  in  this  faculty  and  in 
his  personal  presence,  but  no  less  in  that  genial  abandon- 
ment and  wild  luxuriance  of  style,  so  full  fed  and  overbur- 
dened with  picturesque  adjectives  and  suggestive  parentheses 
that  you  do  not  like  to  confess  the  well-rounded  periods  are 
bloated. 

When  Professor  Wilson  has  us  along  we  know  tliat  we  are 
rambling,  and  do  not  take  much  thought  of  our  bearings. 
Dr.  Guthrie,  with  as  rich  a  genius,  we  cannot  help  consider- 
ing as  a  sermonizer,  subject  to  ordinances  of  method.  It  is 
kind  in  him  always  to  announce  his  text  before  he  begins,  so 
that  when  you  find  yourself  caught  away  at  tne  start,  and 
sentence  upon  sentence  of  eloquent  discourse  ravishes  your 
ear,  of  all  which  you  see  no  possible  bearing  upon  the  pas- 
is 


274  HOUSEHOLD   KEADINa 

Bage,  you  live  in  hope  to  find  a  clew  to  guide  you  safely,  by 
and  by,  to  the  daylight  of  the  text. 

He  announced  as  his  text,  this  afternoon,  2  Cor.  v.  20 : 
"  Now,  then,  we  are  ambassadors  for  Christ,"  etc.  His  first 
sentence  was,  "  There  are  tides  in  the  ocean.  There  is  a 
succession  of  waves  breaking  on  the  shore,  and  after  a  series 
of  small  waves,  at  regular  intervals,  a  long,  heavy  swell  rolls 
in  and  sends  the  foam  far  up  the  beach."  And  thus  he  gave 
a  description  of  these  movements  of  the  sea,  which  a  poetic 
naturalist  would  fall  in  love  with.  He  then  spoke  of  the 
same  tides  and  succession  of  waves  in  the  atmosphere,  and 
described  and  partially  explained  them.  And  there  are  tides 
among  men,  in  society,  in  nations,  —  seasons  of  prosperity 
and  adversity.  Such  is  pre-eminently  true  of  the  Jewish 
nation ;  and  so  he  spoke  of  their  being  prospered,  and  for- 
getting God  ;  being  visited  with  afflictions,  and  brought  back 
to  him.  And  at  these  times,  God  saved  them  by  raising  up 
deliverers.  Then  he  spoke  of  Israel  as  once  brought  into 
subjection  to  the  King  of  Moab  ;  passed  to  the  whole  narra- 
tive of  Ehud  and  Eglon,  giving  the  stabbing  scene  with  won- 
derful dramatic  skUl.  Thus  God's  ambassadors  dealt  then. 
Now  I  am  an  ambassador  for  Christ.  I  might  come  to  guilty 
men,  to  threaten  and  to  strike,  etc.  And  so  he  approaches 
the  fact  and  nature  and  object  of  the  Gospel  ambassador. 

This  introduction  was  fifteen  minutes  long,  before  I  could 
see  any  likelihood  of  his  naming  or  alluding  to  his  text.  It 
was  certainly  most  eloquent,  highly  impassioned,  a  delight- 
fully refreshing  presentation  of  important  truths.  The  re- 
maining two  thirds  of  the  sermon  were  on  the  subject  of  the 
text.  A  great  amount  of  Gospel  truth  was  conveyed.  The 
value  of  the  sermon,  however,  seemed,  to  my  profane  criti- 
cism, to  be  in  the  side-matter  and  the  episodes.  He  had  no 
notes,  and  spoke  with  the  fluency  of  an  unfailing  memory. 
His  voice  passed  frequently  and  suddenly  over  all  the 
changes  of  a  wide  scale.  In  his  pathetic  passages  he  made 
the  sternest  faces  weep. 


DEATH  IN   THE   BALL-KOOM.  275 

It  is  sometimes  the  case  that  one  is  not  in  the  state  to  ap- 
preciate justly  the  strange  idiosyncrasies  of  speakers.  The 
dead  fly  in  this  pot  of  ointment  to  me  was  the  wild  extrav- 
agance of  manner  which  would  have  seemed  bombastic  decla- 
mation in  any  but  one  known  to  be  a  modest,  simple-hearted 
man ;  and  the  highly  wrought,  over-fanciful,  cloud-careering 
style,  with  such  a  tangled  luxuriance  of  poetic  metaphors. 
There  is  no  foreign  preacher  one  would  more  like  to  hear 
again,  for  the  hope  of  correcting  a  first  single  unfavorable 
impression. 


DEATH    IN    THE    BALL-ROOM. 

SOME  years  ago  there  occurred  in  one  of  our  New  Eng- 
land villages,  where  I  have  long  been  intimately  acquaint- 
ed, one  of  those  terrible  scenes  which  at  the  time  every  one 
thought  could  never  be  forgotten.  Those  most  intimately 
concerned  in  it  were  a  party  of  gay  young  pleasure-seekers 
gathered  in  a  ball-room.  In  the  thoughtless  throng  there  was 
one  —  a  young  man  of  respectable  connections  —  who  was 
more  thoughtless  than  the  rest,  and  who  to  giddy  mirth 
did  not  hesitate  to  add  awful  profaneness.  As  the  hours 
passed  he  became  more  and  more  excited  and  reckless,  and 
impatient  with  what  he  thought  or  pretended  to  think  a 
degree  of  sobriety  in  his  companions  quite  unsuited  to  such 
an  occasion,  he  loudly  reproached  them  for  their  indifference 
to  the  festivities  which  they  had  assembled  to  enjoy.  With  a 
fearful  oath  he  declared  his  own  intention  to  be  to  "  raise  hell 
before  morning, ^^  and  so  more  than  carry  out  the  meaning  of 
the  familiar  words  of  Byron,  — 

"  On  with  the  dance  !  let  joy  be  unconfined ; 
No  sleep  till  morn,  when  youth  and  pleasure  meet 
To  chase  the  glowing  hours  with  flying  feet." 

Whether,  in  any  sense,  the  young  man  did  wliat  he  an- 


276  HOUSEHOLD   READING. 

nounced  his  purpose  to  do  I  cannot  say,  but  for  years  I  hav« 
not  been  able,  without  an  involuntary  shudder,  to  think  of 
the  sequel  to  his  rash  remark.  Rushing  into  the  giddy  whirl 
like  a  man  whom  God,  taking  him  at  his  own  word,  had  al- 
lowed to  go  mad  as  a  fit  preliminary  of  his  signal  destruction, 
he  suddenly  fell  dead  by  the  side  of  his  companions,  a  corpse 
in  a  hall-room  !  The  effect  was  indescribable.  Others  could 
quote  Byron  then,  — 

"  Ah  !  then  and  there  was  hurrying  to  and  fro, 
And  gathering  tears,  and  tremblings  of  distress, 
»  And  cheeks  all  pale,  which  but  an  hour  ago 

Blushed  at  the  praise  of  their  oVn  loveliness ; 
And  there  were  sudden  partings." 

For  a  considerable  time  the  event  seemed  likely  to  prove 
very  salutary  in  its  influence  over  others.  But  the  sad  lesson 
was  at  length  forgotten,  and  many  of  the  youth  so  serious 
that  night,  again,  like  unthinking  animals,  whirled  around  and 
over  the  very  spot  where  their  companion  had  fallen.  Such 
is  the  theology  of  those  "  who  know  not  God,  and  obey  not  the 
Gospel  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ."  This  moment  uttering 
oaths  in  the  midst  of  men,  the  next  singing  praises  in  the  im- 
mediate presence  of  God !  Now  with  a  brain  on  fire  with 
spirituous  liquor ;  anon  vrith  mind  and  heart  attuned  to  the 
worship  of  the  glorified !  The  still  corpse  in  the  ball-room  ; 
the  blaspheming  soul  in  the  bosom  of  God!  Such  is  the 
boasted  rational  religion. 


PREPARATION  NECESSARY.  277 


PREPARATION    NECESSARY. 

ONE  of  the  principal  reasons  why  no  more  benefit  is  re- 
ceived from  the  ministrations  of  the  Gospel  and  all  the 
privileges  of  the  Sabbath,  is  the  want  of  a  suitable  preparation 
of  heart  and  mind.  The  thoughts  and  impressions  and  the 
whole  influence  of  the  business  cares  and  perplexities  of  the 
week  are  not  thrown  off.  They  are  apt  to  be  with  us  when 
we  wake  on  Sabbath  morning,  and  it  is  well  if  we  wholly  free 
ourselves  before  entering  the  sanctuary. 

But  there  is  a  remedy.  God  has  provided  ways  and  means 
by  which  our  attention  may  be  turned  from  worldly  cares ;  a 
pause  made,  —  our  attention  arrested,  —  the  currents  of  earth- 
ly affections,  thoughts,  and  conversation  interrupted.  For  a 
little  season  every  day  we  may  give  our  minds  to  heavenly 
meditations,  and  come  under  holier  influences.  Daily  secret 
devotion  not  only  prepares  us  to  go  forth  upon  the  duties  of 
the  day  and  siiccessfully  meet  temptation,  but  keeps  heavenly 
things  in  mind,  keeps  our  hearts  open  to  the  reception  and 
influence  of  divine  truth  from  day  to  day,  and  enables  us  to 
oppose  and  bar  from  our  thoughts  those  influences  which 
hinder  the  proper  improvement  of  the  Gospel. 

The  maintenance  of  family  devotion  has  the  same  general 
bearing.  Its  good  effects  are  felt  by  the  members  of  the 
household,  and  they  are  aided  in  preparing  their  hearts  for 
the  reception  of  divine  truth  on  the  Sabbath. 

Of  the  same  character  and  value  is  the  week-day  social 
prayer-meeting.  This  makes  another  pause  in  the  daily  at- 
tention to  business.  Called  away  from  our  worldly  cares,  our 
thoughts  are  for  a  season  directed  to  spiritual  things.  We 
meet  fellow-disciples  in  the  place  of  prayer  and  praise.  We 
unite  with  them  in  acts  of  devotion.  We  receive  and  give 
impulses  heavenward,  and  return  refreshed  and  strengthened 


21 S  HOUSEHOLD  BEADING. 

for  the  rest  of  the  week,  and  better  prepared  for  the  duties 
and  privileges  of  the  Sabbath. 

If  we  devoutly  and  habitually  observe  these  seasons, — 
secret  devotion,  family  prayer,  and  the  social  prayer-meeting, 
—  we  may  reasonably  expect  progress  in  all  that  belongs  to 
a  sound  Christian  character.  Let  one  man  pursue  and  the 
other  neglect  the  course  here  spoken  of,  and  at  the  end  of 
years  let  their  positions  in  the  Christian  life  be  compared,  their 
progress  be  measured,  their  fruitfulness  be  estimated,  the 
clearness  of  their  understanding  of  divine  things,  the  depth 
and  tone  of  their  piety,  their  steadfastness,  their  readiness  in 
every  good  work,  be  compared,  and  we  should  see  the  value 
and  weight  of  influence  on  the  spiritual  welfare  of  Christians 
of  those  seasons  of  prayer  which  God  has  provided  for  the 
daily  enjoyment  of  his  children.  We  know  full  well  in  which 
class  we  find  the  most  devout  and  circumspect,  fruitful  and 
useful  Christians,  whether  among  the  observers  or  the  neglect- 
ers  of  those  privileges  we  have  mentioned.  "We  all  need  these 
helps,  —  these  pools  of  living  water  placed  along  our  way, — 
that  here,  renewing  our  strength,  we  may  "  run  and  not  be 
weary,  walk  and  not  faint." 

— yy  ^....-^'  ji^'-' 


"CAST  DOWN,  BUT  NOT  DESTROYED." 

I  HELD  a  viol  in  my  hand  ; 
Like  Jesse's  son,  before  the  king, 
Striving  to  make  each  strand 
With  melody  to  ring, 
Worthy  my  Master's  ear, 
If  he  would  deign  to  hear. 

Sudden  there  fell  a  heavy  stroke 
From  him  I  fondly  sought  to  please, 

And  into  fragments  broke 
The  fount  of  harmonies. 


"CAST   DOWN,  BUT   NOT   DESTROYED."  279 

Sad,  silent,  and  amazed, 
Upon  the  wreck  I  gazed. 

"  Henceforth,"  my  pale  lips  feebly  said, 

"  Talk  not  to  me  of  any  joy  ; 
My  bands  henceforth  are  dead 

To  all  their  loved  employ : 

My  life  has  heard  its  doom, 

Earth  is  to  me  a  tomb." 

The  Master  meekly  stooped  and  smiled, 

No  mockery  was  in  that  smile. 
But  love  for  me,  —  poor  child,  — 

Who  bowed  in  grief  the  while. 

He  sought,  with  tenderest  care, 

The  fragments  scattered  there. 

He  gently  joined  them  into  one  ; 

He  stretched  again  the  throbbing  strings ; 
And,  when  his  toil  was  done, 

Drew  from  their  pierced  springs 

Sounds  that  symphonious  rung. 

As  if  a  seraph  sung. 

Entranced  I  heard  the  heavenly  strain, 

Then  on  my  soul  the  message  fell ; 
See  thus,  my  child,  that  loss  is  gain, 

The  sweetest  tone  may  dwell 

Mute,  till  God's  hand  evoke 

Praise  from  the  heart  he  broke. 


280  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 


JESUS    WEEPING. 

TWICE  Jesus  vrept,  —  once  over  Jerusalem,  once  at  the 
grave  of  Lazarus. 

In  both  instances  the  deep  interior  motive  of  his  sorrow 
would  seem  to  be  his  vivid  consciousness  of  the  unbelief  that 
surrounded  him  :  in  the  former  case,  because  the  inhabitants 
of  the  beloved  city  would  not  recognize  him  as  their  peace  ; 
in  the  latter,  because  even  those  who  loved  him,  and  who 
trusted  him  most,  and  understood  him  best,  still  believed  — 
if  at  all  —  so  imperfectly  as  almost  to  prevent  them  from  see- 
ing "  the  glory  of  God." 

If  unbelief  made  Jesus  weep  while  he  was  on  earth,  it 
would  almost  seem  as  if  it  must  make  his  eye  sad  and  tearful 
now,  as,  out  of  heaven,  he  watches  the  progress  of  his  cause, 
the  conduct  of  those  who  are  professedly  his. 

What  sin  so  blights  and  chills  the  life  of  the  Church,  and 
thwarts  all  its  wholesome  activities,  as  this  sin  of  unbelief  ? 
Why  are  not  all  the  churches  revived ;  all  hearts  quickened  and 
glowing  with  the  purest  and  highest  spirituality  ;  all  minds 
always  intent  upon  the  glory  of  God,  and  the  salvation  of  souls, 
as  the  first  great,  absorbing,  controlling  interest  ?  Can  any 
reason  be  given  why  Jesus  is  not  now  doing  "  many  mighty 
works  "  everywhere,  but  that  same  old  reason  which  made 
Nazareth  a  barren  spot  —  "  because  of  their  unbelief"  ? 

This  unbelief —  which  has  made  Jesus  weep,  and,  if  heaven 
can  endure  tears,  may  make  him  weep  again  —  is  a  personal 
matter  ;  the  stagnation  of  i7idividual  piety. 

Reader,  is  any  of  it  in  your  heart  ?  Does  it  make  your 
apprehension  of  spiritual  things  dull  and  dim,  and  your 
response  to  their  appeals  sluggish  and  partial  ?  Then  you 
make  Jesus  sad,  if  you  do  not  make  him  weep.  It  is  not 
what  he  expects  of  you.  It  is  not  what  you  promised  to  him, 
not  what  you  owe  to  him.      He  loves  you,  died  for  you  ; 


GIVING  AS  WE   SPEND.  281 

watches  you,  to  see  of  the  travail  of  his  soul,  and  be  satisfied 
in  your  affectionate,  consistent,  faithful,  useful  life. 

Render  to  him  his  own  ! 

Do  not  stand  in  the  way  of  sinners  ! 

Do  not  freeze  your  own  brother  professors  by  your  cold 
unconcern  I 

Do  not  make  Jesus  want  to  weep,  as  he  compares  your 
unbelieving  actuality  with  what  you  might  be,  ought  to  be, 
have  pledged  yourself  to  become  ! 


GIVING    AS    WE    SPEND. 

"  A  H,  Mr.  Jones  !  "  exclaimed  Deacon  Lane,  "  you  are  just 
J-jL  the  man  I  wanted  to  see.  I  am  collecting  money  to 
purchase  our  good  neighbor  Pike  an  overcoat.  You  know 
he  has  been  sick  a  long  time,  and  I  suppose  he  is  very  desti- 
tute. You  will  subscribe  something,  of  course "  ;  and  so 
saying,  he  passed  Mr.  Jones  the  subscription-paper. 

"  Should  be  glad  to  assist  neighbor  Pike,  he  is  a  worthy 
man  ;  but  the  fact  is,  I  have  paid  out  so  much  for  myself 
and  family  for  clothing,  this  fall,  that  I  am  not  able  to  give 
at  present.  Besides,  the  repairs  on  my  house  exceeded  my 
calculations  by  a  hundred  dollars  ;  and  all  these  things  to- 
gether have  made  my  purse  lean.  I  think  you  will  have  to 
excuse  me  this  time." 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,"  replied  Deacon  Lane.  "  The 
reason  you  offer  for  not  giving  is  one  of  the  reasons  why  I 
feel  that  it  is  my  duty  to  give.  I  paid  twenty-five  dollars  for 
a  surtout  for  myself,  and  I  said,  '  Surely  if  I  can  do  this  for 
my  own  comfort,  I  ought  to  be  willing  to  give  a  dollar,  at 
least,  for  the  comfort  of  my  friend  Pike.'  " 

"  "Well,  that  is  a  new  rule  of  giving,  I  must  confess,"  said 
Mr.  Jones. 


282  HOUSEHOLD   READING. 

"  Not  SO  new  as  you  may  think,"  responded  Deucon  Laue. 
"  Eighteen  hundred  years  old,  at  least ;  which  is  not  very 
new.     I  apprehend  that  this  is  the  rule  of  the  Gospel." 

"  "What !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Jones.  "  Do  I  understand  you 
to  say,  that  if  we  spend  much  to  clothe  ourselves,  we  should, 
for  that  very  reason,  do  something  to  clothe  others  ? " 

"  Yes  !  that  is  what  I  mean." 

"  And  does  this  hold  good  with  regard  to  other  things  ? 
Because  I  spend  much  for  the  comfort  of  my  family,  in  rear- 
ing and  furnishing  a  habitation,  is  this  a  rfeason  why  I  should 
give  to  others  ?  " 

"  That  is  my  idea,  exactly,"  replied  Deacon  Lane.  "  I  see 
you  are  not  a  stupid  man." 

"  So  stupid,  if  you  please,  that  I  do  not  see  the  authority 
for  such  a  rule,"  said  Mr,  Jones. 

"  That  is  not  surprising,"  continued  Deacon  Lane.  "  Many 
people  say  just  as  you  do,  in  substance,  '  I  have  been  at  so 
much  expense  for  my  own  comfort,  that  I  cannot  do  anything 
for  the  comfort  of  others.'  And  I  appeal  to  yourself,  if  that 
is  not  rather  of  a  selfish  practice." 

Mr.  Jones  was  on  a  new  train  of  thought.  He  began  to 
see  clearly  that  duty  lay  where  he  never  saw  it  before.  His 
eyes  spoke,  while  his  tongue  was  silent.  Deacon  Lane  per- 
ceived that  the  argument  was  taking  hold,  and  he  went  on  : 
"  If  people  spend  money  according  to  their  pecuniary  abil- 
ity, then  they  who  spend  much  upon  themselves  ought  to 
give  much  to  benefit  others.  That  is  my  doctrine.  When  I 
see  a  person  having  a  splendid  house,  richly  furnished,  with 
a  plenty  of  servants,  yet  unwilling  to  contribute,  except  in  a 
parsimonious  way,  to  objects  of  benevolence,  I  say  he  does 
not  give  as  God  requires.  If  he  gave  in  proportion  to  his 
gratification  of  self,  his  contributions  would  be  very  large." 

"  Well,  suppose  a  religious  society  should  erect  a  costly 
house  of  worship,"  said  Mr.  Jones,  "  does  your  rule  hold 
good  ?  I  mean  where  there  is  much  outlay  to  attract  the 
eye." 


THEOLOGICAL    CONTROVERSY.  283 

"  Certainly,"  answered  the  Deacon.  "  If  our  society  should 
relinquish  our  house  of  worship,  worth  ten  thousand  dollars, 
for  the  sake  of  a  better  one  that  cost  twenty-five  thousand, 
their  contributions  to  benevolent  causes  ought  to  increase  in 
the  same  proportion,  provided  they  incur  this  additional  ex- 
pense for  the  sake  of  display  or  self-gratification.  We  should 
not  be  consistent  without  doing  this.  Doing  less  than  this 
for  God  would  be  doing  more  for  ourselves,  in  proportion, 
than  we  do  for  his  honor,  which  is  selfishness.  If  everybody 
should  practise  upon  your  principle,  neighbor  Pike  would  go 
coatless  the  coming  winter." 

Mr.  Jones  looked  wiser  than  he  did  a  few  minutes  before, 
and  he  said,  "  Perhaps  you  are  right.  Put  down  a  dollar  for 
me." 


THEOLOGICAL    CONTRO YERS Y. 

THERE  are  two  modes  of  dealing  with  those  who  hold 
with  us  substantially,  but  differ  from  us  in  some  of  the 
subordinates  of  dogmatic  belief.  The  one  method  is  to  dispute 
them,  to  denounce  them,  to  complicate  them  into  falsehoods, 
drive  them  into  heresies,  hold  them  up  to  opprobrium,  and 
break  them  off,  if  possible,  from  the  body  of  the  Church,  or 
destroy  their  influence  in  it.  On  this  principle,  they  must  all 
say  "  shibboleth,"  and  not  "  sibboleth,"  or  we  shall  run 
them  through  the  heart,  if  our  arm  is  strong  enough, 
or  our  theological  spear  is  long  enough.  On  this  prin- 
ciple we  shall  hunt  for  heretics ;  our  eye  will  be  constantly 
roving  along  the  ranks,  and  over  the  hosts  of  Christ's  king- 
dom, and  especially  among  the  great  captains  of  his  army,  to 
detect,  if  possible,  some  one  not  fully  panoplied  in  orthodoxy, — 
some  one  who,  according  to  his  own  deserts,  and  for  a  warn- 
ing to  all  who  vacillate,  and  the  confirmation  of  the  faithful, 
can  be  burned  at  the  stake  of  a  theological  persecutior .     We 


284  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

shall  keep  the  Church  ia  alarms,  with  the  perpetual  cry  of 
"  Wolves  in  the  fold."  We  shall  make  every  man  jealous  of  his 
neighbor,  and  ready  to  suspect  soijie  enormity  of  false  doctrine 
in  every  variation  from  current  expression.  If  we  see  one 
casting  out  devils  in  Christ's  name,  we  shall  forbid  him  if  he 
follows  not  us.  In  our  efforts  for  the  purity  of  the  Church, 
we  shall  always  be  chipping  off  suspicious  fragments,  till  few 
besides  ourselves  remain,  as  the  alone  defenders  of  a  pure 
faith.  As  our  opponents  will  not  readily  consent  to  their  own 
excommunication,  nor  allow  their  orthodoxy  and  their  influ- 
ence to  be  held  at  discount,  they  will  respond  in  self-defence, 
and  to  be  equal  to  us,  will  hurl  back  our  own  fiery  missiles 
of  denunciation  and  abuse.  Hard  feelings,  offensive  person- 
alities, violent  language,  unjust  insinuations  will  follow,  and 
the  disciples  of  Christ  will  no  longer  be  known  by  their  love  to 
one  another. 

It  is  at  least  a  question,  whether  a  different  mode  of  deal- 
ing with  the  class  under  notice  might  not  have  considerable 
advantages.  It  is,  to  exercise  towards  them  a  charity  which 
"  vaunteth  not  itself,"  which  "  hopeth  all  things,"  and  "be- 
lieveth  all  things  "  good  of  them,  —  so  far  as  a  just  regard  for 
the  right  will  possibly  allow,  —  and  to  associate  them  with 
ourselves  in  earnest  works  for  the  advancement  of  Christ's 
kingdom.  On  this  principle,  though  not  blinded  to  obvious 
heresies,  we  shall  not  be  watching  for  them.  We  shall 
never  misrepresent  another's  opinions,  and  make  no  effort  to 
intertwist  and  tangle  up  a  brother's  words,  so  as  to  involve 
him  in  inconsistencies  or  drive  him  to  extremities.  Holding 
alike  firmly  to  great  doctrines,  we  shall  allow  some  minor 
questions  to  remain  in  abeyance,  till,  by  co-operation  in  im- 
portant enterprises,  we  have  secured  some  great  results  for 
Christ.  In  other  words,  we  shall  spend  our  main  strength, 
whether  of  objurgation  or  of  oppugnancy,  directly  against  the 
strongholds  of  Satan's  empire.  We  shall  fight  the  real  enemies 
of  our  religion,  instead  of  spending  our  energies  in  settling 
difficulties  with  its  friends.     Our  policy  will  be  to  include  as 


A   FEEEDMAN'S  WEDDING.  285 

many  among  the  soldiery  of  Jesus  as  are  willing  to  do  battle 
with  us  for  this  cause,  instead  of  endeavoring  to  make  the 
number  of  his  professed  supporters  so  small,  that  there  shall 
certainly  be  none  but  followers  of  our  own  straitest  sect 
among:  them. 


A    FREEDMAN'S    WEDDING. 

WOULD  you  hear  a  description  of  a  freedman's  wed- 
ding ?  I  have  this  evening  returned  from  one,  the 
circumstances  of  which  were  so  peculiar,  and  withal  so  touch- 
ing, that  I  cannot  refrain  from  making  a  report  of  it  before  I 
sleep. 

Richard  Tucker  has  been  known  to  me  ever  since  our  occu- 
pation of  this  State  (North  Carolina)  as  a  leading  and  influ- 
ential colored  man  in  Newbern.  He  reads  and  writes  a  little, 
talks  well,  and  is  a  person  of  character  and  standing.  He  is 
by  trade  a  carpenter  and  undertaker,  and  is  a  devout  class- 
leader  in  the  St.  Andrew's  Methodist  Church.  To-night 
Richard  participated,  not  in  a  funeral,  but  in  a  wedding;  and 
it  was  on  this  wise. 

Thirty  years  ago  he,  the  slave  of  John  Flanner,  married 
Emeline,  the  slave  of  Raymond  Castix,  a  colored  clergyman 
officiating  according  to  their  own  simple  forms.  They  have 
lived  together  happily,  frugally,  honestly,  heirs  of  the  grace  of 
God  ;  and  fifteen  times  has  their  union  been  blest  with  off- 
spring. "  How  many  children  have  you,  Mrs.  Tucker  ? " 
one  of  us  asked  her  to-night.  "  I  have  eight  head  living, 
and  seven  head  dead,"  was  her  reply.  But  feichard  and  Em- 
eline were  not  satisfied  with  their  slave  marriage,  and  invited 
me  to  marry  them  according  to  the  laws  of  liberty  and  the 
word  of  God.  They  knew  that  legal  marriage  between  slaves 
was,  by  decision  of  the  Supreme  Court  of  North  Carolina, 
impossible,  and  that,  according  to  State  law,  they  were  living 
in  adultery  and  their  children  in  illegitimacy. 


286  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

So  to-night  they  stood  together,  at  their  own  fireside,  before 
the  hymeneal  altar,  a  few  colored  friends  and  several  officers 
of  the  Freedmen's  Bureau,  and  lady  teachers  from  the  North, 
being  present  and  deeply  interested  spectators  and  guests. 
They  took  each  the  other  by  the  hand,  as  their  lawful  and 
wedded  mate  ;  and  tears  of  grateful  joy  streamed  down  their 
serious  faces,  while  the  sanctions  of  our  holy  religion  were 
thrown  around  their  union  of  thirty  years'  duration.  Their 
household  shrine  is  proudly  rescued  from  the  bondage  of 
Egypt.  They  stand  amid  their  children  and  friends  in  the 
quiet  dignity  of  citizens  who  know  their  place,  and  do  not 
ambitiously  overstep  it  or  basely  stoop  beneath  it. 

After  exchange  of  pleasant  congratulations,  all  sat  down  to 
a  bountiful  supper,  and  the  past  was  recounted,  the  present 
enjoyed,  and  the  future  predicted.  Castix,  it  appears,  sold 
away  from  them  seven  of  their  children,  and  obtained  for 
them  upwards  of  $5,000.  Richard  at  length  persuaded  his 
master,  a  kind  man,  to  buy  his  wife  and  baby,  which,  with 
Richard's  help  he  did,  for  $800.  Richard  paid  his  owner 
$15  per  month  for  his  time,  and,  in  addition  to  this,  fully 
supported  himself  and  his  family.  (The  negroes  won't  work, 
they  say  !)  "When,  after  the  war,  his  old  master  came  back 
fleeced  by  his  friends,  Richard  lent  him  money,  and  did 
everything  in  his  power  to  aid  him  in  his  destitution.  (The 
negroes  have  no  generosity,  they  say  !)  Richard  has  gathered 
his  children  back  from  bondage.  The  oldest  keeps  a  flour- 
ishing store  ;  and  the  younger  ones  can  read  and  write  so 
well,  that  the  ebon  patriarch  takes  off  his  spectacles  and 
listens  while  they  read  the  daily  paper  aloud ;  and  at  fam- 
ily devotions  they  read  in  the  Testament,  and  he  devoutly 
prays. 

The  wedding  feast  was  followed  with  some  characteristic 
songs.     The  refrain  of  one  of  them  was  in  the  words, — 

"  Sound  the  loud  timbrel  o'er  Egypt's  dark  sea ! 
Jeliovah  has  trhimphed,  his  people  are  free  !  " 

This  is  very  popular  among  the  freedmen  of  Newbern  ;  ana 


PARENTAL  INFLUENCE.  287 

they  sing  it  splendidly.  But  the  rarest  one  to  me  was 
"  Wake,  Nicodemus,"  of  which  I  must  quote  the  first  stanza 
and  the  chorus :  — 

"  Nicodemus,  the  slave,  was  of  African  birth. 

He  was  bought  for  a  bagful  of  gold ; 
He  was  counted  as  part  of  the  salt  of  the  earth, 

But  he  died  years  ago,  very  old. 
'T  was  his  last  sad  request,  so  we  laid  him  away, 

In  the  trunk  of  an  old  hollow  tree  ; 
'  Wake  me  up,'  was  his  charge,  at  the  first  break  of  day, 

'  Wake  me  up  for  the  great  Jubilee.' 


'  There 's  a  good  time  coming,  it 's  almost  here, 
'T  was  long,  long,  long  on  the  way  ; 
Now  run  tell  Elijah  to  hurry  up  Pomp, 
To  meet  us  at  the  gum-tree  down  by  the  swamp, 
To  wake  Nicodemus  to-day." 


PARENTAL    INFLUENCE. 

EVERY  parent  should  remember  that  his  children  are 
affected  by  his  constantly  moulding  influence.  Beware  of 
the  copy  you  set  before  them  to  imitate.  Be  sure  they  will 
mark  line  for  line,  shade  for  shade,  blot  for  blot.  Your  conduct 
is  their  rule  of  life.  Expect  no  more  from  your  children  than 
you  are  yourself.  The  stream  rises  no  higher  than  the  foun- 
tain. Far  better  suffer  wrong ;  let  another  have  the  last 
word,  or  the  last  blow  even,  rather  than  that  your  children 
should  photograph  your  life  and  character  on  their  own,  all 
disturbed  and  marred  by  passion  and  folly. 


•288  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 


FELLOWSHIP 


0  CHRIST  of  God !  how  teachest  thou 
The  loss  of  self  and  all  below, 
The  fellowship  of  pain  to  know  ! 


The  wine-press  is  but  beaten  blood, 
Wrung,  drop  by  drop,  from  feet  that  trod 
Alone,  where  fell  the  scourge  of  God. 

That  fire  and  blood  betoken  love 
Is  hard  to  learn,  and  hourly  prove : 
We  shall  not  question  it  above ! 

The  tears  from  Holy  Eyes  that  fell, 
Which  heap  the  waters  of  that  well 
Whose  depth  no  human  gauge  may  tell, 

Must  on  our  sinful  hearts  return, 
Must  on  our  scorching  eyelids  burn, 
That  we  their  bitterness  may  learn  ; 

And  that  deep  hunger  of  the  heart, 

The  pain  that  gnaws  with  constant  smart. 

Till  human  love  by  death  shall  part : 

And  thirst,  that  all  our  utmost  will 
Is  powerless  yet  to  bid  "  be  still "  ; 
The  want  an  ocean  could  not  fill ; 

And  learn  to  bow  before  the  scorn 

Of  petty  hate  and  malice  born. 

While  meekness  on  the  brow  be  worn ; 

And  naught  but  tender  pity  pale 

The  brow,  where  seraph-eyes  would  quail, 

Beholding  sin  cast  off"  the  veil ; 


THE  ENGLISH   GOVERNMENT.  289 

Our  meekest  love  and  mercy  pour, 
Where  Higher  Love  hath  gone  before ; 
And  wondering  seraphim  adore  ! 

Each  drop  wrung  out  by  pain  to-day, 
Refines  the  spii-it  from  the  clay ; 
Bi'ings  noontide  clearness  o'er  the  way. 

The  livid  scars  left  here  by  fire, 
Are  steps  to  bring  us  from  the  mire ; 
Consuming,  each,  some  low  desire. 

The  discipline  will  grow  more  dear 
As  stain  by  stain  shall  disappear : 
Perfecting  love  will  banish  fear. 

When  gates  of  pearl  are  backward  rolled, 

And  sinless  feet  o'er  streets  of  gold 

Shall  walk,  through  years  that  ai'e  untold ; 

When  love  divine  shall  satisfy 
The  thirst  by  which  we  daily  die  ; 
We  shall  not  ask  the  reason  why  ! 


0  Christ  of  God !  thy  passion's  pain 
We  press  to  share :  the  sharpest  strain 
Hath  wrought  our  everlasting  gain ! 


THE    ENGLISH    GOVERNMENT. 

THE  recognized  head  of  the  British  government  is  the  king, 
or,  as  at  present,  the  queen.  The  idea  of  royalty  is  asso- 
ciated in  the  minds  of  the  masses  in  our  own  country  with  that 
of  absolute  power  and  of  tyranny,  yet  practically  the  queen  of 
England  exercises  but  very  little  authority.  She  has  but  the 
shadow  of  power  compared  with  the  President  of  the  United 

19 


290  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

States.  She  has  emoluments.  "With  many  of  the  English 
people  she  is  almost  an  idol.  They  seem  greatly  to  enjoy 
having  her,  nominally,  to  rule  over  them ;  but  she  is  an  expen- 
sive luxury.  The  cost  of  the  nation  of  supporting  the  royal 
family  at  the  present  time  is  enormous,  about  $3,000,000  a 
year.  Every  precaution  is  taken  to  giiard  the  monarch 
against  prejudicial  assaults.  Lest  some  disrespect  should  be 
shown  the  king,  the  members  of  Parliament  are  forbidden  by 
law  to  mention  his  name  in  debate.  The  Ministry  is  held 
responsible  for  whatever  the  Crown  may  do.  The  king  has, 
like  our  President,  the  veto  power  ;  but,  unlike  our  President, 
the  king  does  not  think  it  prudent  to  use  this  power,  —  hence 
it  has  not  been  used  in  England  since  the  time  of  William 
III.  The  Ministry  represents  the  Crown ;  and  while  our 
President  holds  his  office  for  four  years,  and  we  cannot  have 
a  change  sooner  than  that  if  we  would,  the  English  may  have 
a  change  in  their  Ministry  almost  any  time. 

A  distinction  is  sometimes  made  between  the  Ministry  and 
the  Cabinet,  but  the  Cabinet,  as  such,  has,  in  fact,  no  legal 
existence.  The  Ministry  consists  of  twenty-five  persons  lead- 
ing officers  of  the  government ;  but  the  Cabinet,  so  called, 
has  but  thirteen  members.  The  latter  are  selected  from  the 
former  as  special  advisers  of  the  Crown.  They  derive  their 
name  from  the  historic  incident  that  in  the  reign  of  Charles 
I.  tliey  were  in  the  habit  of  holding  their  meetings  in  the 
Cabinet  of  the  Queen  Consort,  Henrietta  Maria.  But  this 
Cabinet  council  U  not  recognized  by  the  law,  and  no  record 
is  kept  of  its  doings. 

The  Ministry  is  the  legal  body  of  advisers,  as  is  the  Presi- 
dent's Cabinet  in  our  own  country.  The  Prime  Minister,  or 
Premier,  is  the  first  Lord  of  the  Treasury.  The  second  post 
of  honor  is  held  by  the  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer. 

When  an  important  measure  is  brought  forward  by  the 
Ministry,  and  the  House  of  Commons  rejects  it,  the  Ministry 
resigns ;  and  although  the  king  or  queen  remains  as  before, 
there  is  an  immediate  change  in  the  government ;  as  was  the 


THE  ENGLISH  GOVERNMENT.  291 

case  recently  when  the  Reform  Bill  was  rejected.  The  House 
of  Commons  is  presumed  to  represent  the  will  of  the  nation, 
and  hence  it  is  allowed  thus  by  its  votes  to  change  the  Min- 
istry. If,  independently  of  any  bill  proposed  by  the  Ministry, 
the  House  of  Commons  at  any  time  passes  a  vote  expressive 
of  want  of  confidence  in  the  Ministry,  then  the  Ministry  re- 
sign, or  are  dismissed  by  the  Crown.  Whenever  there  is  a  seri- 
ous disagreement  between  the  Commons  and  the  Ministry, 
there  must  be  a  change  in  the  government.  If,  however,  the 
Crown  thinks  the  House  of  Commons  does  not  express  the 
wish  of  the  nation,  he  can,  instead  of  dismissing  the  Ministry, 
dismiss  the  Parliament,  and  order  a  new  election.  If  the  old 
members  are  returned  or  re-elected,  this  proves  that  they 
represented  the  will  of  the  people,  and  then  the  Ministry 
must  be  dismissed.  If,  however,  new  members  are  elected 
who  are  in  sympathy  with  the  Ministry,  then  the  Ministry  is 
retained,  notwithstanduig  the  votes  of  the  old  Parliament 
against  it.  Thus,  at  any  time,  if  the  Ministry  does  not  suit 
the  people  who  exercise  the  right  of  suffrage,  the  House  of 
Commons,  as  the  representatives  of'the  people,  will  condemn 
the  Ministry  by  its  votes,  and  the  people  will  secure  an  iinme- 
diate  change  of  government.  If,  however,  the  Ministry  and 
the  House  of  Commons  are  in  sympathy,  and  both  are  in 
conflict  with  the  wishes  of  the  people,  then  the  people  can 
secure  a  change  in  both  as  soon  as  there  is  an  election  of  a 
new  Parliament.  Hence  there  is  far  less  stability  in  the 
Ministry,  which  represents  the  Crown,  in  England,  than  there 
is  in  our  own  government ;  at  least  there  may  be,  and  if 
there  is  not,  it  is  because  the  majority  of  the  voters  desire  no 
change. 

Next  to  the  Crown,  comes  the  House  of  Lords.  The  power 
of  creating  peers  is  lodged  with  the  Crown,  and  its  exercise 
is  intrusted  solely  to  his  discretion.  The  House  of  Lords 
consists  at  present  of  about  four  hundred  and  fifty  members. 
All  bills  affecting  the  peerage  must  originate  in  the  House  of 
Lords,  and  cannot  be  altered  by  the  House  of  Common?,  — 


292  HOUSEHOLD   READING. 

but  in  ordinary  matters  of  legislation,  the  Lords  do  not  op- 
pose the  measures  adopted  by  the  House  of  Commons,  espe- 
cially when  such  measures  are  carried  in  the  Commons  by  a 
strong  majority.  Unless  the  bill  is  one  which  will  seriously 
affect  the  fundamental  institutions  of  the  government,  the 
House  of  Lords,  although  they  have  the  power  to  negative 
the  action  of  the  House  of  Commons,  do  not  regard  it  pru- 
dent to  exercise  that  power.  Hence  in  general  legislation, 
practically  the  Upper  House  exerts  but  little  influence.  But 
the  House  of  Peers  acts  not  only  in  a  legislative,  but  also  in 
a  judicial  capacity,  and  is  the  supreme  judicial  court  of  the 
nation,  —  and  in  its  peculiar  sphere  must  be  regarded  as  a 
power.  The  twenty-eight  temporal  peers  sent  by  Ireland  are 
chosen  for  life.  The  sixteen  sent  by  Scotland  are  elected  for 
each  Parliament  by  the  nobility  of  that  country.  The  Arch- 
bishops of  York  and  Canterbury,  and  twenty-four  bishops, 
constitute  the  spiritual  peerage  of  England.  Four  spiritual 
peers  from  Ireland  alternate  with  each  other  at  successive 
sessions.  The  remaining  members  of  the  House  of  Lords 
are  English  temporal  peers.  Thus  constituted,  this  House 
thoroughly  represents  the  aristocracy  of  the  kingdom. 

The  House  of  Commons  is  the  popular  branch  of  the  gov- 
ernment. It  originated  in  the  year  1295.  It  has  at  present 
a  little  over  six  hundred  and  fifty  members.  About  fifty  of 
these  are  from  Scotland,  somewhat  over  one  hundred  from 
Ireland,  and  the  remainder  from  England  and  Wales.  A  few 
over  two  hundred  and  fifty  are  sent  by  counties,  and  about 
four  hundred  represent  towns  and  universities.  The  theory 
of  the  government  is  that  this  House  represents  the  whole 
population.  The  knights,  or  the  members  chosen  by  the  free- 
holders of  the  counties,  are  alleged  to  represent  the  agricul- 
tural interests,  while  the  citizens  and  burgesses,  or  the  mem- 
bers sent  by  towns,  are  said  to  represent  the  interests  of  trade. 
But  the  poor  have  no  one  to  represent  them,  and  the  people 
generally,  at  the  present  time,  are  far  from  admitting  the 
correctness  of  the  above  theory  of  the  government.     The 


THE  ENGLISH  GOVERNMENT.  293 

House  of  Commons,  although  the  most  popular  branch  of  the 
government,  in  fact  represents  only  a  small  portion  of  the 
nation. 

As  the  members  of  Parliament  receive  no  pay  for  their 
services,  no  one  but  a  man  of  large  fortune  can  afford  to 
accept  of  the  office  ;  and,  at  present,  with  the  prevailing  prac- 
tice of  bribery,  it  is  necessary  sometimes  to  expend  a  hand- 
some fortune  in  securing  a  seat.  Many  of  the  members 
belong  to  the  nobility.  To  accommodate  those  who  reside  in 
or  near  London,  and  who  have  business  which  must  be  at- 
tended to,  the  House  does  not  ordinarily  meet  until  four 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  and  continues  its  sessions  until  late 
m  the  night.  Of  the  bills  which  excite  any  general  interest, 
it  is  said  that  there  is  not  one  in  a  hundred  which  is  passed 
until  after  midnight.  The  House  of  Commons,  although 
less  dignified  than  the  House  of  Lords,  is  more  alive.  It 
furnishes  the  chief  arena  of  British  eloquence,  —  and  the 
liberties  taken  in  debate  are  hardly  less  than  those  which 
prevail  in  our  own  House  of  Representatives.  The  habits  of 
the  House  of  Commons  seem  to  an  American  peculiar.  The 
Speaker  and  the  clerks  still  keep  up  the  custom  of  wearing 
an  old-fashioned  gray  wig.  The  room  in  which  the  House 
holds  its  sessions  is  oblong.  There  is  an  open  space  in  the 
centre  nearly  the  whole  length  of  the  room.  The  Speaker's 
desk  is  at  one  end  of  this  open  space,  and  on  both  sides  there 
are  rows  of  very  long  seats.  As  the  Ministry  of  the  Crown 
are  selected  from  the  members  of  Parliament,  and  many  of 
them  from  the  House  of  Commons,  those  members  of  the 
Ministry  who  belong  to  the  Commons  always  sit  on  the  for- 
ward seat  nearest  the  Speaker  on  his  right  hand.  The  mem- 
bers generally  sit  with  their  hats  on.  When  one  rises  to 
speak,  or  when  he  changes  his  seat,  he  must  take  his  hat  off. 
Thus  should  a  member  move  a  few  feet  to  speak  to  another 
member,  or  for  any  reason  leave  his  own  seat  without  taking 
off  his  hat,  he  would  at  once  be  called  to  order,  —  but  it  is 
all  right  for  him  to  wear  his  hat  so  lone;  as  hti  sits  still. 


294  HOUSEHOLD  EEADING. 

The  popular  iutei  est  of  the  nation  centres  in  the  House  of 
Commons.  Here  is  the  nation's  power,  —  so  true  is  this  as 
to  call  forth  from  Mr.  Roebuck,  in  1858,  the  exclamation, 
"  The  Crown  !  it  is  the  House  of  Commons  !  " 


USEFULNESS  OP  FAULTFINDERS. 

N  a  certain  town  in  Massachusetts  there  was  a  man,  several 
years  since,  who  seemed  to  be  a  bold  leader  of  all  opposi- 
tion to  religion,  and  always  ready  to  publish  abroad  any  de- 
linquencies which  might  be  discovered  in  any  professor  of 
religion.  At  length  he  made  up  his  mind  to  remove  from 
the  place  to  another  part  of  the  country.  Meeting  the 
pastor  of  the  Congregational  Church  one  day,  he  said,  after 
passing  the  usual  salutation,  — 

"  Well,  I  suppose  you  know  that  I  am  gomg  to  leave  town 
soon,  and  you  will  probably  be  glad  of  it." 

"  Glad  of  it  ?  Why,  no,"  said  the  minister  ;  "  you  are 
one  of  our  most  useful  men,  and  I  think  I  shall  hardly  know 
how  to  spare  you." 

Taken  aback,  somewhat,  by  such  a  reply,  he  immediately 
asked,  "  How  is  that  ?  " 

"  Why,"  rejoined  the  minister,  "  there  can't  be  a  sheep 
that  gets  a  foot  out  of  this  fold,  but  what  you  will  always 
bark  from  one  end  of  the  town  to  the  other.  I  think  you 
have  really  been  one  of  the  most  useful  watch-dogs  that  I 
ever  knew." 

The  remaining  conversation  we  will  not  repeat ;  but  there 
seemed  to  be  an  idea  too  good  to  be  lost,  in  reference  to  the 
usefulness  of  some  wicked  men,  who  are  always  disposed  to 
find  fault  with  the  Church.  They  may  often  exert  some  re- 
straining influence  and  do  good  in  that  way,  when  they  do 
not  intend  to.     David   recognized  this   kind  of  usefulness, 


HONOR   FOR   THIEVES.  295 

wheu  he  said,  "  I  will  take  heed  to  my  ways,  that  I  sin  not 
with  my  tongue ;  I  will  keep  my  mouth  with  a  bridle,  while 
the  wicked  is  before  me."  (Ps.  xxxix.  1.)  If  the  Lord  has 
bid  them  curse,  why  should  they  not  finish  their  work  ? 
The  reward  of  such  a  kind  of  usefulness  may,  indeed,  differ 
from  that  of  those  who  really  love  to  honor  God  in  what  they, 
do ;  but  that  God  will  surely  see  to  in  the  end,  so  that  no 
injustice  shall  be  done  them. 

Reflection.  More  than  one  kind  of  watch-dogs  may  be 
very  useful ;  and  though  they  may  be  liable  to  occasional 
madness,  yet  their  bite  is  seldom  fatal  to  any  but  themselves. 
Kind  treatment  may  sometimes  quiet  them  for  a  season,  but 
the  very  sight  or  hearing  of  a  straying  sheep  is  quite  sure  to 
make  them  active  again  in  their  useful  work.  Pity  that  they 
could  not  have  reason  to  use  for  their  own  good,  as  well  as 
instinct,  that  must  be  spent  alone  for  the  good  of  others. 


HONOR    FOR    THIEVES. 

TEMPORA  mntaiitur,  et  nos  mutamur  in  illis,  ("  Times  are 
changed,  and  we  are  changed  with  them,")  is  an  old 
proverb,  but  a  true  one. 

"  Men  change  with  fortune,  manners  change  with  climes, 
Tenets  with  books,  and  principles  with  times." 

"  Honor  among  thieves  "  has  long  been  a  common  saying, 
but  honor  /or  thieves  is  the  modern  rendering.  There  now 
seems  to  be  a  point  where  vice  rises  into  the  scale  of  virtue, 
where  swindling  becomes  a  shrewd  business  transaction,  and 
rascality  honorable.  But  just  where  stealing  ceases  to  be 
stealing,  and  is  recognized  as  evidence  of  shrewdness,  is  not 
as  yet  clearly  defined.  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  a  miser- 
able fellow  who  picks  your  pocket  of  ten  dollars  has  commit- 
ted a  great  offence,  and  should  be  dealt  with  rigorously,  pun- 


296  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

ished  to  the  very  extent  of  the  law  ;  nor  is  there  any  doubt, 
on  the  other  hand,  that  he  who  swindles  government  or  cor- 
porations of  thousands  or  millions  of  dollars  is  looked  upon 
as  a  remarkably  smart  man,  and  although,  in  deference  to  a 
little  sense  of  justice  still  lingering  in  some  minds,  he  maybe 
restrained  in  his  personal  liberty  for  a  short  time,  he  is  not 
generally  regarded  as  a  villain,  and  erelong  reappears  in  so- 
ciety and  is  petted  and  honored  as  he  never  would  have  been 
had  he  remained  stupidly  honest  or  honestly  stupid. 

A  graduated  scale  runs  from  the  petty  larceny  to  the  gi- 
gantic fraud,  and  somewhere  on  this  scale  robbery  ceases  to 
be  sin  and  becomes  a  business  transaction.  But  the  precise 
line  of  distinction  is  like  the  vanishing  point  in  a  picture,  or 
like  the  horizon  at  sea,  —  it  is  someivhere,  but  not  exactly  dis- 
cernible ;  and,  therefore,  if  a  man  is  inclined  to  be  a  thief,  his 
proper  course,  according  to  the  present  standard  of  honor,  is  to 
be  sure  and  make  his  theft  large  enough  to  carry  him  up  to  a 
safe  position  beyond  all  possible  doubt,  and  where  he  is  cer- 
tain to  receive  that  deference  which  is  due  to  his  great  skill 
and  success. 

Robbery  thus  becomes  a  question,  not  of  how  little,  but 
how  much ;  for  danger  lurks  in  the  former,  and  security  and 
a  fortune  in  the  latter.  This  is  not  the  day  for  small  things ; 
for  why  should  a  man  steal  an  editor's  or  a  minister's  pocket- 
book  and  go  to  jail,  when  he  can  retire  on  an  ample  fortune, 
secure  from  all  molestation,  by  stealing  a  hundred  thousand 
dollars?  Human  nature  is  not  quite  so  short-sighted,  and 
therefore  it  is  that  we  hear  every  few  days  of  swindlings  and 
robberies  which  astound  us  by  their  magnitude.  Then  follows 
compounding  with  felony,  "  arrangements  "  with  the  rogues, 
public  admiration  of  the  brilliancy  of  the  affair,  and  minute 
descriptions  of  the  iniquitous  details,  which  make  a  hero  of 
the  robber  just  in  proportion  as  they  show  his  skill  in  crime ; 
and  if  the  guilty  party  by  some  mistake  gets  inside  instead 
of  keeping  outside  of  prison  walls,  sympathy  is  immediately 
roused,  petitions  from  men  high  in  social  and  business  and 


HONOR   FOR   THIEVES.  29T 

official  circles  pour  in  upon  the  Executive,  either  tliat  the  un- 
fortunate man  shall  be  released,  or  at  any  rate  not  be  com- 
pelled to  associate  or  be  put  to  menial  labor  with  those  vulgar 
men  who  were  silly  enough  to  commit  insignificant  instead  of 
magnificent  crimes,  for  it  is  manifestly  unjust  that  the  accom- 
plished villain  who  robs  upon  a  large  scale  should  be  put  up- 
on a  level  with  the  cowardly  man  whose  trembling  soul  did 
not  dare  great  things.  At  last,  when  once  more  free,  the 
finished  rascal  is  received  with  open  arms  by  the  mercantile 
community,  and  holds  his  head  as  high,  at  least,  as  any  of  his 
fellows. 

This  picture  is  not  overdrawn.  It  would  be  easy  to  specify 
instances  sustaining  all  that  has  been  said.  Mercantile  honor 
is  not  what  it  once  was.  The  standard  is  sadly  lowered,  if 
not,  indeed,  in  many  cases,  wholly  lost  sight  of.  We  have 
seen  it  stated  that  strict  integrity  is  not  an  indispensable  qual- 
ification for  admission  to  our  Boards  of  Trade,  or  our  Cham- 
bers of  Commerce.  These  names  were  once  guaranties  for 
the  character  of  their  members,  but  it  can  hardly  be  said  so 
now.  There  is  rottenness  somewhere  in  our  business  circles. 
Shrewdness  or  business  tact  are  words  that  cover  what  we 
once  called  di.  iionesty,  and  success  in  accumulating  property 
by  whatever  nuans  seems  to  be  the  grand  touchstone  to  which 
everything  is  applied. 

The  very  fact  that  stock  gamblings  and  bogus  companies  of 
all  sorts  are  not  only  countenanced,  but  oftentimes  originated 
and  carried  on  by  men  claiming  to  be  honorable  in  their  deal- 
ings, shows  that  the  moral  element  i-s  sadly  lacking  in  the 
business  community.  We  heard  a  broker  remark  a  few  days 
ago,  that  it  was  nest  to  impossible  to  transact  his  business  on 
a  basis  of  rigid  integrity  toward  both  buyer  and  seller,  and 
we  fear  that  the  number  of  those  in  business  circles  who  would 
shrink  from  a  public  exposure  of  all  their  dealings  is  fearfully 
large.  The  theory  that  "  all  things  are  honorable  in  trade  " 
is  practically  adopted  by  many  whom  we  little  suspect,  and  we 
fear  that  many  who  profess  the  Christian  name  do  not  carry 


298  HOUSEHOLD  KEADESfG. 

4' 

the  principles  of  the  Bible  into  their  counting-rooms.  There 
are  those  always  ready  to  declaim  against  mixing  religion 
with  politics  or  mercantile  affairs ;  but  is  there  not  need  of 
it  ?  Is  it  not  time  for  sober  thought  and  action,  when  oui 
code  of  business  morals  will  not  stand  the  test  of  our  church 
morals  ?  when  we  feel  compelled  to  separate  our  religion  from 
our  daily  vocations,  lest  it,  too,  become  contaminated  and  lose 
its  identity  ?  Is  it  not  time  to  cease  being  honest  onl^  when  it 
is  the  "  best  policy,"  to  cease  from  that  practical  honoring  of 
rogues  which  our  consciences  condemn,  but  which  our  code 
of  business  morals  too  often  allows,  and  to  carry  enough  of 
religion  into  our  daily  transactions  to  save  community  from 
moral  rottenness  ? 


"WE    ESTEEMED    HIM    NOT." 

WE  were  showing  to  a  very  little  boy  a  picture  of  "  the 
child  Jesus  in  the  Temple  with  the  doctors,"  and 
were  saying  that  they  did  not  know  that  he  was  the  Christ. 
He  replied :  "  But  why  did  n't  they  know  him  ?  He  has  n't 
got  his  shine,  has  he  ?  They  'd  know  him  if  he  had  his 
shine. ^^ 

Ah  yes,  that  was  the  true  reason.  When  the  Son  of  God 
came  to  earth  he  laid  his  glory  by.  He  made  himself  of  no 
reputation,  and  took  upon  him  the  form  of  a  servant,  and  was 
made  in  the  likeness  of  men.  Long  beforehand  the  prophet 
had  described  him  as  being  without  form  or  comeliness,  with 
no  beauty  that  we  should  desire  him,  as  a  root  out  of  a  dry 
ground.  He  left  "  his  shine "  behind,  and  so  people  won- 
dered, not  knowing  who  he  was.  He  spoke  wonderful 
words,  and  did  mighty  deeds,  and  thus  gave  hints  of  his 
rightful  glory,  which  were  in  strong  contrast  with  his  humil- 
ity and  poverty ;  but  only  once  were  men  permitted  to  see  his 


TWO  DYING   BOYS.  299 

glorj.  Tliat  once  was  on  the  mount  of  transfiguration, 
when  "  his  face  did  shine  as  the  sun,  and  his  raiment  was 
white  as  the  light."  But  at  all  other  times,  to  the  human 
eye,  he  seemed  to  be  a  child  among  children,  or  a  man 
among  men. 

Many  painters  have  thrown  a  radiance  around  the  head  of 
Jesus,  suggested  by  their  ideas  of  his  glory,  but  not  author- 
ized by  any  Scriptural  account  of  his  appearance.  We  can 
but  admire  their  works  as  works  of  art,  and  yet  we  need  to 
guard  ourselves  and  our  children  against  the  thought  that 
there  was  any  such  "  shine  "  upon  our  Saviour's  face  when 
he  lay  in  the  manger,  or  wept  over  Jerusalem,  or  suffered  on 
the  cross. 


TWO    DYING    BOYS. 

SAID  the  Rev.  N.  McLeod  of  Scotland,  "  The  other  day, 
I  was  requested  by  a  brother  minister,  who  was  unwell, 
to  go  and  visit  a  dying  child.  He  told  me  some  remarkable 
things  of  this  boy,  eleven  years  of  age,  who,  during  three 
years'  sickness,  had  manifested  the  most  patient  submission  to 
the  will  of  God,  with  a  singular  enlightenment  of  the  Spirit. 
I  went  to  visit  him.  The  child  had  suffered  excruciating 
pain ;  for  years  he  had  not  known  one  day's  rest.  I  gazed 
with  wonder  at  the  boy.  After  drawing  near  to  him,  and 
speaking  some  words  of  sympathy,  he  looked  at  me  with  his 
blue  eyes,  —  he  could  not  move,  it  was  the  night  before  he 
died,  —  and  breathed  into  my  ear  these  few  words,  "  I  am 
strong  in  Him."'  The  words  were  few,  and  uttered  feebly; 
they  were  the  words  of  a  feeble  child,  in  a  poor  home,  where 
the  only  ornament  was  that  of  a  meek  and  quiet  and  affec- 
tionate mother :  and  these  words  seemed  to  lift  the  burden 
from  the  very  heart ;  they  seemed  to  make  the  world  more 


300  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

beautiful  than  it  over  was  before  ;  they  brought  home  to  my 
heart  a  great  and  blessed  truth.  May  you,  sir,  and  I,  and 
every  one  else,  be  strong  in  him !  " 

It  is  now  almost  five  years  since  the  sufferings  of  this  dear 
boy  ended,  —  since  he  entered  that  painless  world  where  the 
inhabitant  shall  no  more  say,  "  I  am  sick,"  but  where  all  are 
"  strong  in  him."  Many  times,  in  the  interval,  has  a  vision 
of  that  death-scene  passed  before  us ;  many  times  has  it 
brought  to  painful  consciousness  the  weakness  of  our  own 
faith,  in  contrast  with  the  strength  of  that  patient  little  suf- 
ferer ;  but  many  times  has  it  made  us  "  strong  in  Him " 
whose  strength  was  thus  made  perfect  in  weakness,  and  who 
enabled  that  dying  child  to  breathe  forth,  though  but  in  whis- 
per, those  last  strong  words  of  faith  and  hope.  These  words 
have  been  wafted  to  these  Western  shores ;  they  have  been 
repeated  on  the  islands  of  the  sea ;  they  have  doubtless  been 
spoken  in  languages  of  which  that  dear  boy  had  never  heard. 
We  would  not  detain  them  from  their  blessed  mission  of 
strength  to  the  weak,  of  patience  to  the  suffering,  and  of 
hope  to  the  dying.  Nay  !  rather  will  we  again  intrust  them 
to  the  winds  of  heaven,  and  speed  them  on  in  their  errand  of 
peace  and  joy,  —  to  visit  yet  other  shores,  to  speak  in  yet 
other  tongues,  and  to  enable  yet  many  departing  souls  to 
feel,  if  not  to  whisper,  "  I  am  strong  in  Him !  " 

The  scene  changes  from  an  obscure  chamber  in  Glasgow 
to  the  still  more  secluded  wigwam  on  our  Western  border. 
Again  the  minister  of  Jesus  is  present  to  cheer  a  dying  boy, 
as  he  looks  down  into  the  dark  valley,  and  timidly  reaches 
forth  his  hand  to  grasp  the  staff  of  the  good  Shepherd.  The 
little  Testament,  which  his  kind  teacher  had  taught  him 
both  to  read  and  to  love,  lies  by  his  side.  With  an  earnest- 
ness which  cannot  be  denied,  but  with  a  reach  of  purpose 
which  his  teacher  cannot  fathom,  the  meek  child  of  the  forest 
makes  one  last  request,  —  "When  you  lay  me  in  my  cofiin, 
I  want  you  to  place  my  little  Testament  at  the  side  of  my 
head,  and  bury  it  with  me."     When  asked  why  he  desired 


TWO   DYING   BOYS.  301 

thi&,  he  replied,  "  In  the  resurrection,  when  so  many  shall 
appear  before  the  Saviour,  I  am  afraid  he  will  not  notice  me. 
I  will  take  my  little  Testament  in  my  hand,  and  hold  it  up, 
and  when  he  sees  that,  I  am  sure  he  will  receive  me." 

We  love  to  think  of  this  meek  and  lowly  child.  We  love 
to  follow  him  through  the  river  of  death,  and  along  the 
farther  shore,  until  he  stands  before  the  gates  of  the  celestial 
city.  He  bears  in  his  hand  a  passport,  on  which  the  watch- 
ful sentinel  at  the  pearly  gate  needs  not  to  write  his  name, 
for  it  hath  already  on  it  a  name  which  is  above  every  other. 
It  is  the  same  passport  which  was  sealed  by  John  at  Patmos, 
and  which  alone  has  admitted,  to  the  New  Jerusalem,  every 
one  of  its  blood-bought  and  ransomed  inhabitants.  He 
moves  forward  towards  the  burning  throne,  all  unconscious 
of  inferiority  of  age  or  race  or  present  rank ;  all  unmindful 
of  former  doubts  and  fears  and  conflicts ;  wrapt  in  the  vis- 
ion of  glory  which  surrounds  him ;  filled  with  a  fulness  of 
joy  which  his  tender  thoughts  had  never  conceived;  and 
joining  already,  without  waiting  to  be  taught  the  strain,  and 
with  a  sweetness  which  no  practised  cherub  can  surpass,  in 
the  new  song  which  is  sung  in  heaven.  Standing,  at  length, 
before  Him  who  sitteth  on  the  throne,  and  laying  his  passport 
at  his  feet,  he  feels  a  gentler  than  a  mother's  hand  laid  upon 
his  head,  and  hears  a  voice,  sweeter  than  that  of  his  earthly 
teacher,  saying  to  him,  "  Of  such  is  the  kingdom  of  heav- 
en ? " 

Dear  boy !  you,  too,  are  now  safe  in  the  tender  Shep- 
herd's arms.  We  would  take  up  the  passport  which  you 
have  laid  down.  We  would  bear  it  with  us  through  all  the 
wanderings  of  our  earthly  pilgrimage,  until  we,  too,  are 
guided  safely  home  to  the  loved  fold,  where  there  shall  be 
one  flock  and  one  Shepherd. 


B02  HOUSEHOLD  EEADING. 


THE  BITTER  CUP. 

"  Father,  remove  this  cup." 

THOUGH  in  his  stress  of  human  grief 
An  angel  bore  him  up, 
My  Lord  loved  not  the  gall  to  taste, 
Nor  seized  the  draught  with  vaunting  haste, 
But  cried,  while  yearning  for  relief, 
"  Father,  remove  this  cup !  " 

Not  with  a  stoic's  stony  pride, 

Veiled  by  a  seraph's  wings, 
The  Christ  looked  through  the  Garden's  gloom. 
Upon  the  thorns,  the  cross,  the  tomb, 
But  faintly  turned  his  head  aside, 

With  human  shudderings. 

When  sin's  red  vintage  must  outflow, 

His  cruel  drink  to  be, 
With  no  defiant  step  he  trod 
The  wine-press  of  the  wrath  of  God, 
But  meekly  prayed,  to  shun  the  woe, 

"  Remove  this  cup  from  me." 

And  may  not  I,  when  from  the  cloud 

That  darkly  folds  me  up, 
The  heavy  drops  of  grief  distil. 
And  life's  deep  chalice  overfill, 
Cry  out,  afraid,  and  not  too  proud, — 

"  Father,  remove  this  cup  ! " 

Why  need  my  lips  the  gall  embrace. 

Nor  shrink  with  pale  dismay, 
It  is  enough,  that  I  as  he. 
The  servant  of  his  Lord  should  be, 
And  I  may  plead  with  God's  sweet  grace,  — 

"  Let  this  cup  pass  away." 


PENDANTS   AND   PILLARS.  303 

Yet  while  I  sue,  like  my  dear  Lord, 

Some  bitter  cup  to  shun, 
Like  him  the  murmur  I  must  fold, 
In  high  resolve,  and  purpose  bold, 
And  copy  still  his  loftier  word,  — 

"  Yet  not  my  will  be  done." 

His  fainting  flesh  and  faltering  speech, 

May  not  my  patterns  be, 
While  these  alone  I  wrongly  learn. 
And  from  the  true  example  turn, 
Which  my  weak  words  may  never  reach,  — 

"  Remove  this  cup  from  me." 

This  plea  be  mine,  —  and  only  then,  — 

When  from  these  lips  of  clay 
Can  break  the  Master's  after-tone, 
Yet  "  not  ray  will,  but  thine,  be  done," 
And  joyful  suffering  hush  the  strain, 

"  Let  this  cup  pass  away." 


PENDANTS   AND   PILLARS. 

CONVERSING-  a  few  days  since  with  a  friend,  respecting 
a  church  that  had  lost  several  valuable  members   by 
death,  and  expressing  some  fears  for  their   prosperity,  he 

replied,  "  Their  loss  is  more  than  made  up  in  young . 

He  has  piety  and  good  sense,  and  is  very  active  and  useful 
in  the  church." 

All  understand  that  much  more  was  conveyed  by  this 
statement  respecting  the  individual  in  question,  than  the  sim- 
ple fact  that  he  had  made  a  profession  of  religion.  He  had 
not  only  entered  the  church,  but  he  had  carried  his  manhood 
with  him.  Many  a  young  man  fails  to  take  all  of  himself  in- 
to the  church.     That  which  can  plan,  and  execute,  and  suf- 


304  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

fer  is  left  without.  If  you  would  learn  his  true  power,  you 
must  see  him  when  employed  in  secular  affairs.  Then  he  is 
a  lion  ;  terrified  by  no  enemy,  disheartened  by  no  opposition, 
shrinking  from  no  self-denial.  If  you  would  learn  his  weak- 
ness, follow  him  to  the  labors  demanded  by  his  Christian  pro- 
fession. There  you  will  see  timidity,  irresolution,  and,  along 
the  plainest  path  of  duty,  a  halting  step,  that  contrasts  most 
painfully  with  what  you  witnessed  before.  But  this  young 
man  in  this  church  was  all  sanctified  and  set  apart  to  the 
service  of  God.  His  energy,  his  reliability,  his  power  of 
accomplishment  as  a  man  of  business,  showed  themselves  in 
the  church  in  the  performance  of  the  duties  which  his  profes- 
sion enjoined  upon  him  there. 

The  risks  of  life  follow  us  everywhere.  While  destitute 
of  religious  principle,  the  young  man  is  in  constant  peril. 
Indulged  appetites  and  passions,  or  that  more  seemly  friend- 
ship of  the  world  which  is  enmity  with  God,  watch  for  his 
soul.  If,  hopefully  escaping  from  these,  he  enters  the  Church, 
his  highest  growth  may  be  impeded,  and  his  promise  of  use- 
fulness prove  delusive.  We  look  with  delight  upon  the  beau- 
tiful blossoms  of  spring,  but  it  is  a  delight  chastened  by  the 
conviction  that  few  of  them  will  fulfil  the  fair  promise  they 
make.  The  frost  will  chill.  The  storm  will  blight.  The 
worm  will  gnaw  away  their  life.  And  few  will  bring  forth 
fruit  unto  perfection.  So  have  we  looked,  at  some  commun- 
ion scene,  upon  the  throng  that  have  come  forth  to  profess 
their  faith  in  Christ.  There  was  youth.  There  was  talent. 
There  was  energy  of  character.  It  was  inspiring  to  think  of 
the  good  that  might  be  performed,  of  the  attainments  made, 
of  the  treasures  laid  up  for  a  better  world  by  that  fair  com- 
pany that  were  just  then  putting  on  their  armor.  But  the 
saddening  reflection,  suggested  by  experience,  would  occur 
to  us  that  this  bright  promise  would  not  be  fulfilled  ;  that 
the  forest  and  the  field,  with  their  disfigured,  dwarfed,  and 
dying  forms  of  vegetable  life,  "  are  emblems  true  "  of  the 
Church ;  that  here,  as  respects  the  highest  usefulness,  fail- 
ure is  the  rule  and  success  the  exception. 


LUKE   SHORT.  305 

In  almost  every  church  there  are  those  who  are  prompt  at 
the  call  of  duty,  ready  to  assume  responsibility,  to  perform 
the  labors  and  bear  the  burdens  that  their  profession  imposes. 
These  are  the  body-guard  of  the  church,  —  the  men  that 
meet  its  emergencies  and  sustain  its  interests.  It  is  not  ex- 
travagant to  say  that  the  number  of  such  is,  relatively  to  the 
whole,  very  small,  in  most  of  our  churches,  while  in  some 
they  hardly  exist.  The  great  mass  must  be  "  watched  and 
tended."  They  are  unsightly  jyendants,  not  pillars,  —  either 
of  strength  or  beauty,  — in  their  church. 

When  the  intelligence  that  some  one  professor  of  religion 
is  active  and  useful  produces  a  feeling  akin  to  surprise,  it  is 
plain  that  we  greatly  need  that  dispensation  of  the  Spirit 
which  shall  secure  to  the  Church  the  resources  that  are 
rightfully  hers ;  that  shall  not  only  plant  new  trees  in  the 
courts  of  the  Lord,  but  render  those  that  are  already  there 
fair  and  flourishing.  An  entire  consecration  to  God,  such  as 
the  Scriptures  enjoin  and  true  piety  approves,  of  all  now  in 
the  Church,  would  be  felt  to  the  ends  of  the  earth.  Then 
would  Zion  aris3  and  shine,  "  her  light  being  come,  and  the 
glory  of  the  Lord  being  risen  upon  her." 


LUKE    SHORT. 

"  Can  a  man  be  bom  when  he  is  old  f  " 

LUKE  SHORT  was  born  in  Dartmouth,  England,  about 
the  year  1630,  and  lived  there  till  he  was  sixteen  years 
old.  At  a  later  period,  he  came  to  this  country,  and  settled  in 
Marblehcad,  where  he  led  a  seafaring  life.  Later  still,  he  re- 
moved to  Middleborough,  Massachusetts,  where  he  spent  the 
remainder  of  his  days.  At  one  hundred  years  of  age,  he 
worked  on  his  fi|rm,  and  his  mental  faculties  were  but  little 

20 


306  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

impaired.  He  remembered  to  have  seen  Oliver  Cromwell, 
and  to  have  been  present  when  Charles  I.  was  beheaded  in 
January,  1649. 

He  was  sitting  one  day  in  his  field  at  this  advanced  age, 
calling  to  mind,  as  aged  people  are  wont  to  do,  the  scenes  of 
his  early  life,  when  memory  recalled  the  fact  of  his  having 
heard  the  celebrated  John  Flavel  preach  on  the  text,  1  Cor. 
xvi.  22,  "  If  any  man  love  not  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  let 
him  be  anathema  maranatha."  Mr.  Flavel  explained  these 
words  somewhat  in  the  following  manner,  "  Let  him  be 
cursed  with  a  grievous  curse,  let  him  be  devoted  to  utter 
destruction  when  the  Lord  shall  come  to  judgment."  Mr. 
Short  recollected  much  of  the  sermon ;  and  also  that  Mr. 
Flavel,  when  he  came  to  dismiss  the  people,  said,  "  How 
shall  I  bless  this  whole  assembly,  when  every  person  in  it 
who  loveth  not  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  is  anathema  mara- 
natha "  ? 

The  impression  on  the  assembly  was  exceedingly  solemn, 
and  one  person,  a  baronet,  was  so  overcome  by  intense  feel- 
ing that  he  fell  to  the  floor.  These  reminiscences  now 
passed  in  solemn  review  before  the  mind  of  Luke  Short ;  and, 
through  the  infinite  grace  of  God,  led  to  his  saving  conver- 
sion. He  joined  the  First  Church  in  Middleborough,  May 
22,  1731.  Rev.  Peter  Thacher,  who  admitted  him,  and 
who  records  the  transaction,  says,  "  I  suppose  him  near  one 
hundred  years  old."  He  gave  pleasing  evidence  of  piety 
until  his  death,  which  occurred  in  1746,  at  the  age  of  one 
hundred  and  sixteen.  Here,  certainly,  is  a  striking  instance 
of  the  indestructibility  of  impressions  once  made  on  the 
mind.  Impenitent  sinner !  all  the  solemn  warnings  you 
have  ever  heard,  though  you  may  have  forgotten  them  for 
the  present,  will  sooner  or  later  come  to  mind,  perhaps  to 
your  everlasting  sorrow. 


ANDEESONVILLE   PRISON.  307 


ANDERSONVILLE    PRISON. 

I  AM  elevated  about  eighteen  feet  from  the  ground,  and 
command  an  ahnost  perfect  view  of  the  accursed  den.  I 
am  in  the  valley  formed  by  the  little  brook  that  runs  directly 
across  the  enclosure,  nearly  bisecting  it.  This  brook  is  not, 
as  has  been  said,  a  slow,  sluggish  stream,  but  a  ripple  is 
clearly  discernible,  glinting  in  the  sunlight  until  it  disap- 
pears in  the  stockade'  on  the  other  side.  The  water  falls  six 
feet  in  crossing  the  prison  grounds.  Hills  arise  on  both 
sides  of  this  stream,  that  on  the  north  side  much  more  pre- 
cipitous than  the  one  on  the  south.  The  former  is  now 
much  washed  and  gullied  by  storms,  but  formerly  it  was 
literally  honeycombed  by  caves  in  which  the  prisoners  lived, 
or  rather  wretchedly  stayed.  Some  of  these  caves  now  re- 
main, and  are  objects  of  intense  interest,  and  it  will  repay  us 
to  go  in  and  examine  them  minutely.  You  must  crawl  in 
on  hands  and  knees,  and  be  reverent  as  you  go,  for  many 
plucky  hearts  and  weary  frames  have  gone  before  you. 
"When  you  get  in,  you  can  scarcely  sit  erect,  but  look 
around,  and  you  will  find  that  a  workman  has  been  there. 
The  red  clay  can  be  cut  into  any  shape,  and  does  not  easily 
crumble.  There  is  a  bench  formed  by  cutting  away  the 
earth  above,  the  corners  as  square  now  as  when  the  work 
was  completed.  There  is  a  little  fireplace  carved  elegantly 
out  of  the  solid  clay,  the  jambs  and  mantel  yet  entire,  the 
cunning,  square  chimney,  cut  through  up  to  daylight, — 
there  it  is,  without  a  flake  having  fallen  from  its  sides ;  and 
the  ornamental  top  above  the  surface  is  there  entire,  with  its 
little  black  hole,  making  one  think  that  a  little  volcano  had 
been  in  action.  Then  looking  a  little  farther  you  will  see 
where  the  poor  prisoner  scooped  with  an  unfaltering  hand 
his  bed  out  of  the  cold,  damp  clay.  There  he  slept  and 
dreamed  of  home  ;  there,  perhaps,  he  died.     But  let  us  take 


808  HOUSEHOLD  BEADING. 

a  look  on  the  other  side  of  the  brook.  Here  the  color  of  the 
earth  is  light  yellow.  There  are  no  caves  except  one  that  is 
found  sunk  under  one  of  the  large  sheds  used  for  the  sick 
who  were  not  taken  to  the  hospital.  This  cave  was  dug  in 
the  level  ground  about  three  feet  deep,  with  chimney  and 
fireplace  as  in  the  others.  We  lighted  some  straw  in  the 
fireplace,  which  illuminated  the  interior  and  burned  with  a 
great  roar,  so  powerful  was  the  draft.  Here  are  hundreds 
of  huts,  made  of  mud  and  sticks,  the  weeds  and  grass  grow- 
ing over  them. 

Let  us  enter  one  of  them.  The  side  walls  are  about  one 
foot  in  height,  laid  up  most  beautifully  with  laths  split  from 
the  pine.  A  cornice  is  made  of  the  same  material,  the  lath 
running  in  an  opposite  direction  from  that  in  the  wall.  On 
this  cornice  the  rafters  are  laid,  running  up  with  a  very  sharp 
pitch  and  meeting  about  four  and  a  half  feet  above  the 
ground.  The  rafters  are  covered  with  the  same  kind  of  lath 
about  half-way  up,  when  thatching  begins,  evidently  from 
want  of  material. 

In  the  midst  of  these  huts  there  is  what  they  called  a  ward, 
which  consists  of  posts  planted  in  the  ground,  covered  with 
a  shingle  roof.  Of  such  sheds  there  were  eleven  within  the 
stockade.  Each  would  contain  about  one  hundred  and 
twenty-five  men,  and  one  plate  and  drinking-cup  was  fur- 
nished by  the  "  Confederacy  "  for  the  whole.  Some  objects 
of  interest  can  be  seen  in  walking  about  among  those  huts. 
Here  are  the  remains  of  an  old  shoe,  tied  up  with  strings  to 
keep  it  together,  another  is  fastened  with  wire.  I  kick  over 
a  bruised  and  battered  piece  of  sheet -iron  tied  up  into  shape 
by  strips  of  cotton  cloth,  and  am  about  to  ask  what  it  is,  when 
I  discover  that  it  is  a  drinking-cup.  And  scattered  all  about 
are  tiny  staves,  some  of  them  only  two  inches  long,  some 
much  longer.  These  were  once  parts  of  a  drinking-vessel, 
curiously  made  with  a  penknife. 

The  stories  of  horror,  materials  for  which  are  supplied  by 
the  history  of  this  place,  will  be  read  with  a  shudder  so  long 


ANDEESONVILLE  PRISON.  309 

as  American  liistjiy  shall  be  known.  The  shocking  crimes 
against  humanity  were,  like  all  crimes,  so  unnecessary  that 
they  are  without  a  single  apology.  The  prison  was  situated 
in  a  region  of  country  teeming  with  abundant  supplies,  as  yet 
not  wasted  by  the  ravages  of  war ;  near  a  dense  pine  forest, 
from  which,  had  our  men  been  permitted,  they  would  in  one 
week's  time  have  covered  the  whole  enclosure,  but  from  the 
insatiate  malice  of  the  enemy  they  were  compelled  to  shiver 
in  the  storms,  and  scorch  under  the  rays  of  the  midsummer 
sun.  Entering  these  gates  seemed  like  going  alive  into  one's 
grave. 

The  inner  stockade  is  an  immensely  strong  thing,  the  logs 
rising  eighteen  feet  above  the  ground.  Then  all  around  the 
top  arose  at  every  few  rods  the  sentry-roof,  where  a  blood- 
thirsty wretch  watched,  too  glad  to  have  an  opportunity  to 
shoot  a  man  if  he  but  crossed  the  dead-line  with  his  hand ! 
Twenty  rods  behind  this  stockade  rose  another  equally  strong, 
and  two  rods  in  the  rear  of  this  another  was  in  process  of 
erection,  which  opened  into  nine  different  forts,  all  nearly 
completed,  rendering  escape  impossible.  The  grounds  lie  in 
two  slopes,  and  one  earthwork  with  two  or  three  guns,  and  a 
fort  with  five  or  six,  were  so  arranged  that  they  could  sweep 
every  foot  of  the  interior  of  the  stockade.  But  there  was  an- 
other battery  of  a  more  frightful  character,  —  a  battery  that 
opened  twenty  mouths  on  the  prisoners,  —  the  slave-hunting 
bloodhounds  !  This  was  a  real  institution,  consisting  of  three 
log  buildings  about  a  hundred  rods  from  the  stockade,  one 
house  for  the  dogs,  one  for  the  keepers  and  drivers,  and  one 
for  the  horses.  It  was  the  business  of  the  keepers  to  make  the 
circuit  of  the  stockade  with  the  pack  of  hounds  every  morning 
to  detect  the  track  of  any  prisoner  who  might  have  escaped. 
These  dogs  actually  tore  the  flesh  of  our  men,  and  I  have  seen 
one  who  was  tracked  to  his  hiding-place  by  them.  This  caps 
the  climax  both  to  the  strength  and  diabolism  of  this  prison. 

In  view  of  all  this,  what  was  the  dark  and  bloody  philosophy 
on  which  this  prison  was  founded  ?    What  the  reason  for  such 


310  HOUSEHOLD   EEADING.  '  ^f^ 

inhuman  treatment?  It  was  not  necessary  to  the  perfect 
security  of  the  prisoners,  neither  was  the  Confederate  cause 
advanced  thereby,  at  home  or  abroad.  The  philosophy  is 
simply  this  :  it  was  an  outcropping  of  the  system  of  American 
slavery.  When  1  left  those  dreary  gates,  through  which  so 
many  American  citizens  have  gone  to  die,  I  uttered  these  fear- 
ful words  to  my  companion,  which,  on  reflection,  I  want  to 
put  on  record.  Pointing  back  to  the  stockade,  I  said,  "  That 
is  the  damnedest  fact  of  this  age,  —  a  hieroglyph  on  the  walls 
of  hell  appearing  in  time  ;  and  posterity  will  decipher  it  with 
a  shudder."  It  is  the  last  grand  spasm  of  the  demon  Slavery, 
as  he  shakes  his  gory  locks  at  liberty,  order,  and  law,  and  then 
sinks  into  outer  darkness.  If  the  above  words  skirt  the 
borders  of  profanity,  please  let  the  unconscious  type  utter 
them  on  my  responsibility,  for  profanity  here  becomes  the 
utterance  of  sober  truth. 


GONE!  — SO    SUDDENLY! 

IT  was  between  six  and  seven  in  the  afternoon  when  I 
reached   the   house.     D was  very  sick.     He  was  a 

young  man  "  of  wonderful  strong  constitution,"  the  father 
said.  The  doctor  had  told  them,  "  There  's  nothing  alarm- 
ing in  the  case."  They  all  thought  so.  I  had  a  glimpse  of 
him  as  he  opened  the  door,  and  called  for  his  sister,  a  girl  of 
marked  excellence,  —  his  only  sister.  There  are  only  three 
of  them,  —  two  brothers  and  this  sister.  He  was  in  the  field 
with  the  horses  three  days  ago,  and  has  not  taken  off  his 
clothes  only  nights.  I  'm  some  afraid  of  diphtheria.  So  we 
just  spoke  through  the  door.  I  felt  uneasy  at  the  tone  and 
symptoms. 

An  hour  after  the  physician  came  again, —  saw  "  no  cause 
for  alarm,"  —  left  him.    In  a  little  time  poor  D could  not 


GONE  !  —  SO   SUDDENLY.  311 

endure  the  agony  for  breath,  —  called  for  ice,  —  sprang  up,  — 
went  through  the  door  to  a  room  where  his  father  sat,  and  in 
convulsive  anguish  strove  for  breath  until  blood  flowed.  The 
strong,  noble  father  (he  is  six  feet  and  more,  and  heart  as 
big  in  proportion)  embraced  him  to  help  him,  drew  him  to  a 
lounge  in  the  room,  and  while  holding  him  in  his  arms, 

D gasped,  "  Jce,  tee/"     The  head  fell  back;  he  was  — 

dead ! 

The  clock  had  struck  nine  and  a  half.  The  house  was  still. 
Nobody  was  in  it,  by  chance,  but  the  father,  mother,  the 
brother  and  sister,  and  the  dead  son.  They  were  stupefied 
with  horror,  and  laying  him  at  length  on  the  seat,  they  sat 
down,  speechless,  tearless,  motionless  !  and  gazed,  and  gazed, 
they  say,  an  hour  ;  —  not  a  word,  not  a  tear  from  one  of  them. 
Neighbors  at  length  came  in — took  up  the  body.  Tears  and 
cries  filled  the  house. 

I  've  just  been  again.    Such  a  house  of  mourning  is  seldom 

seen.     D was  the  rising  hope  of  the  family,  fine  in  form, 

brilliant  in  gifts ;  a  master  of  the  city-side  of  the  business ; 
almost  an  idol  in  the  family ;  and  gone  so  suddenly !  0, 
putting  all  together,  did  I  ever  see  such  a  morning  ? 

Was  Tie  a  Christian  ?  If  you  have  read  so  far,  you  are  sure 
to  ask  that  question.  He  never  thought  he  was.  None 
claimed  it  for  him.  Alas  !  the  brilliant  gayety  of  the  young 
manhood  had  no  tinge  of  the  blood  from  the  cross  on  it ! 
"  No  hope,  —  without  God  in  the  world !  " 

Young  reader,  I  have  written  this  for  you.  Put  your  soul 
in  that  soul's  place,  and  say,  does  heaven  or  hell  await  you  ? 
Stop,  young  man !  young  woman  !  ponder.  Hearken  at  your 
own  heart.  Dying  in  your  working  suit,  —  in  the  arms  which 
meant  just  to  support  you, —  say,  are  you  ready  ?  "  Crone  so 
suddenly  I " 


312  HOUSEHOLD   EEADING. 


GOD'S    ANGER. 

IT  is  not  that  impatient,  stormy,  passionate  wrath  which 
men  indulge ;  but  something  calm,  self-poised,  tender, 
yet  unerring  and  fearful.  Have  you  ever  been  in  a  court 
of  justice  when  a  kind-hearted  judge  was  in  the  act  of  pro- 
nouncing a  fatal  sentence  upon  an  offender?  If  so,  your 
attention  was  perhaps  arrested  by  perceiving  his  deep  and 
subdued  emotion.  You  heard  his  address  to  the  criminal, 
and  were  surprised  on  discovering  his  voice  sometimes 
growing  husky,  his  hands  trembling,  and  his  eyes  suffused 
with  tears.  You  listened  to  his  words,  and  were  deeply  moved 
to  hear  him  say  that  it  was  inexpressibly  painful  to  him  to 
consign  a  fellow-man  to  death  ;  that  he  would  freely  give  all 
he  possessed  could  the  deed  of  wrong  be  undone,  and,  were  it 
right,  he  would  hasten  to  solicit  a  pardon  for  the  guilty  man  ; 
yet  that  far  deeper  than  his  pity  was  his  love  of  right ;  that  he 
could  not  allow  his  sympathies  to  disturb  the  tranquil  decision 
of  justice,  and  must,  though  weeping,  utter  the  words  of  doom. 

If  you  have  seen  this,  you  have  felt  that  justice  in  man  is 
not  a  mere  passion,  which  exists  only  by  subduing  every 
gentle  and  kind  emotion,  but  rather  that  it  is  something 
more  central  and  vital  than  any  passion ;  itself  peaceful,  yet 
having  power  to  touch  the  finest  sensibilities,  and  assemble  in 
its  train  all  the  tenderest  emotions  of  the  soul.  Not  unlike 
this  is  the  justice  of  God.  It  does  not  stifle  his  compassion, 
and  create  a  reign  of  pitiless  severity  in  his  breast ;  it  rather 
quickens  the  play  of  all  compassionate  feelings,  and  utters 
its  decisive  voice  in  accents  of  sympathy,  as  did  the  Saviour 
when  he  beheld  the  city  and  wept  over  it,  even  while  he  con- 
demned it. 

How  hopeless  will  be  the  sinner's  escape  from  such  "  an- 
ger " !  The  judgment  of  an  enraged  being  would  be  less 
certain  and  awful. 


OUR  BABY.  313 


OUR    BABY. 

WHEN  the  pansies'  purple  buds 
Opened  in  the  early  spring, 
And  all  Nature  from  her  sleep 

Woke  'mid  songs  and  blossoming, 
Baby  opened  her  soft  eyes, 
Bluer  than  the  April  skies. 

Purest  depths  of  feeling  stirred 
For  the  helpless  little  thing, 

Sent  us  from  the  Father's  hand. 
Such  a  wealth  of  joy  to  bring ; 

By  her  coming,  filling  up 

To  the  brim  life's  sweetest  cup. 

Peeping  through  the  cradle  bars, 
"With  her  gentle  eyes  of  blue. 

Answering  back  each  fond  caress. 
With  a  low  and  dove-like  coo, 

Daily  golden  cords  of  love 

Close  around  our  hearts  she  wove. 

But  the  cradle 's  empty  now. 

We  shall  turn  there  for  the  light, 

Nevermore,  of  soft  bright  eyes ; 
Ne'er  again  the  pillows  Avhite 

Will  be  pressed  by  that  dear  head : 

Baby  has  another  bed. 

Withered  flowers  and  grassy  turf 
Cover  close  the  form  so  fair : 

O,  how  bitter  were  our  grief! 
If  our  gaze  but  rested  there. 

If  what  memory  could  recall, 

And  that  little  grave,  were  all  I 


314  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

Now,  as  when  he  walked  on  earth, 
Jesus  bids  the  children  come. 

Many,  listening  to  the  call, 

Have  gone  up  to  his  bright  home. 

Safely  in  that  upper  fold, 

Is  the  lamb  of  our  flock  told. 

Saviour,  in  this  chastening  hand 
Let  us  love  and  mercy  see. 

By  it,  draw  our  wounded  hearts 
Near,  and  nearer  unto  thee, 

So,  when  free  from  earthly  stain, 

Baby  shall  be  ours  again. 


THE  PLEASURES  AND  BENEFITS  OF  TRAVEL. 

THERE  is  no  more  profitable  expenditure  for  any  man 
than  that  which  is  made,  occasionally,  at  least,  for  the 
purpose  of  seeing  his  own  country,  and,  if  his  resources  will 
admit,  of  visiting  other  lands. 

The  pleasures  of  travel  are  among  the  purest  and  most  de- 
lightful that  we  experience.  We  see  the  varied  wonders  and 
beauties  of  nature,  and  our  tastes  thus  become  elevated  and 
refined,  and  our  minds  are  impressed  with  the  evidences 
everywhere  afforded  of  the  power,  wisdom,  and  goodness  of 
the  Creator. 

If  we  travel  into  foreign  climes,  we  are  surprised  with  the 
difference  between  the  habits  and  appearance  of  the  people 
there  and  those  of  our  own  country ;  while  we  are  pleased  with 
the  displays  we  see  of  enterprise,  wealth,  and  magnificence. 
We  are  delighted  to  visit  spots  which  are  hallowed  by  the 
touch  of  genius  on  the  part  of  the  poet  and  the  novelist,  or 
by  recollections  of  the  illustrious  men  and  women  who  once 
dwelt  there,  and  whose  memory  still  lingers  around  the 
vicinage. 


"GOD   IS   LOVE."  315 

But  there  is  no  satisfaction  greater  than  that  which  is  felt 
when  we  look  upon  objects  hoary  with  antiquity,  and  stand 
in  places  associated  with  great  historic  events,  which  carry  us 
far  back  into  the  past  as  we  call  to  mind  the  scenes  enacted 
there,  and  strive  to  reproduce  in  our  imagination  the  actors 
in  those  scenes.  One  of  our  most  gifted  writers  has  said  : 
"  The  pyramid  in  its  sandy  vale,  the  Parthenon,  the  Acropo- 
lis, the  Colosseum,  the  Tiber,  flowing  so  quietly,  while  the 
decrepit  mistress  of  the  world  slumbers  amid  the  relics  of 
departed  greatness,  touch  new  sources  of  feeling  and  con- 
templation." 

Nor  are  the  pleasures  of  travel  to  be  exhausted  while  we 
are  traversing  foreign  lands.  There  is  a  perennial  source  of 
satisfaction  in  the  retrospection  of  what  we  have  seen  and 
heard  and  felt.  "  Travelling,"  says  Mrs.  Farrar,  in  her  "  Rec- 
ollections of  a  Lifetime,"  "  is  one  of  the  few  pleasures  of  this 
world  that  does  not  'perish  in  the  using.'  Southey  said,  'It 
is  more  delightful  to  have  travelled  than  to  travel,'  and  I  think 
he  is  right.  The  most  prosperous  journeys  have  their  anxie- 
ties and  disappointments,  and  sight-seeing  is  so  fatiguing  as 
sometimes  to  destroy  all  enjoyment.  But  in  the  retrospect 
all  that  was  unpleasant  is  forgotten,  and  we  only  live  over  the 
most  delightful  part  of  our  experiences." 


"GOD    IS    LOVE." 


ANNA  G died  at  the  age  of  thirty-two.  At  twenty- 
two  she  publicly  professed  her  faith  in  Christ,  and 
united  with  the  Church.  The  goodness  of  God  led  her  to 
repentance.  Then  she  was  laid  in  the  furnace,  —  by  the 
inscrutable  providence  of  God  appointed  to  suffer.  Twelve 
wearisome  years  of  invalid  life  were  hers.  More  than  eight 
years  she  lingered  on  within  the  walls  of  a  sick-room,  and 
most  of  the  time  unable  to  leave  her  couch.     Severe  were 


316  HOUSEHOLD  EEADING. 

her  sufferings ;  yet  in  all  the  dwelling  no  room  was  more 
cheerful  than  hers.  Everything  was  just  right.  She  wel- 
comed whatever  her  friends  did,  as  the  best  that  could  be 
done,  and  so  it  was  never  a  task,  but  always  a  delight,  to  take 
care  of  her. 

The  writer  has  never  seen,  and  never  expects  to  see  again, 
such  patience,  cheerfulness,  fortitude,  unfaltering  trust,  as 
throughout  this  sickness.  So  serene  and  sweet  was  the  ex- 
perience, such  heavenly  joy  and  fellowship  were  vouchsafed, 
and  so  clearly  could  this  sufferer  read  her  title  "  to  mansions 
in  the  skies,"  that  she  desired  her  pastor,  when  she  was  dead, 
to  preach  a  funeral  discourse  from  these  words,  "  God  is 
love."  Wearisome  days  and  nights  were  appointed,  yet  her 
song  of  daytime  and  of  night  was,  "  God  is  love."  It 
pleased  her  Heavenly  Father  to  strengthen  her  Christian 
hopes  and  remove  all  clouds  from  her  mind.  She  was  a  re- 
markable example  and  illustration  of  sustaining  grace.  The 
world  needs  such  examples.  They  are  a  power.  Probably  no 
one  ever  left  the  chamber  where  lay  this  daughter  of  adver- 
sity —  as  the  world  would  say  —  without  a  silent  testimony 
for  Christ  and  his  religion. 

Our  friend  has  only  gone  from  one  apartment  of  our 
Father's  house  to  another.  She  is  released  from  suffering 
and  reigns  in  glory.  Her  voice  to  survivors  is,  "  Come, 
come  up  hither."  Through  faith  and  patience,  she  now  in- 
herits the  promises.  On  golden  characters  she  reads  the 
mysteries  of  Providence,  and  perceives  why  it  is  if  we  would 
reign  with  Christ,  we  must  first  suffer.  Her  serene  life,  her 
peaceful  death,  were  a  fulfilment  of  the  Divine  promise,  "  My 
grace  is  sufficient." 


MISS  DAFFODIL.  317 


MISS    DAFFODIL. 


/ 


OMY  eyes  !  "  said  Clo. 
Now  Clo's  eyes  were  worth  looking  at  just  then ;  they 
were  very  blue,  and  very  round,  and  very  wide  open  ;  more- 
over, there  were  two  bright  dancing  lights  in  them,  that 
played  hide-and-seek  with  her  long  lashes.  But  then,  you 
see,  that  was  n't  what  she  meant  at  all. 

She  was  standing  on  the  very  edge  of  a  chair,  on  the  very 
tips  of  her  toes,  with  both  her  hands  put  up  on  the  closet 
shelf,  half  her  curls,  and  half  her  face,  as  far  as  her  little 
round  nose,  raised  above  it,  so  that  she  could  just  peep  in. 
To  be  sure,  the  edge  of  the  shelf  did  jam  and  flatten  the 
nose,  so  as  to  be  decidedly  unbecoming,  but  she  did  n't  care 
for  that. 

For  upon  the  shelf  stood  a  little  arm-chair  covered  with 
dark-blue  velvet,  and  in  tlie  chair  sat  a  doll  as  large  as  a 
good-sized  baby.  And  such  a  doll !  Its  hands  and  arms 
were  of  flesh-colored  kid,  and  looked  so  much  like  real 
liands  and  arms  that  Clo  always  insisted  upon  it  she 
could  n't  tell  them  from  her  own,  unless  she  tried  pinching. 
Its  face  was  made  of  the  prettiest  and  pinkest  of  wax,  with 
two  exceedingly  red  cheeks,  and  two  very  black  eyes,  that 
opened  and  shut  according  to  orders.  Its  hair  was  long,  and 
could  be  arranged  after  every  passing  fashion.  Just  now  it 
was  crimped  into  two  very  peaky,  perky,  wide-awake  little 
rolls  on  the  top  of  the  head,  with  a  bunch  of  tiny  yellow 
flowers  between.  She  was  in  full  dress  for  a  party,  and 
wore  a  cream-colored  silk  that  trailed  as  much  as  half  a 
yard  behind,  —  I  mean  a  doll's  half-yard.  Altogether,  she 
looked  about  as  much  like  some  bright,  golden,  spring 
flower,  picked  by  mistalce,  as  it  was  possible  for  a  young 
lady  of  her  size  and  abilities  to  look.  That  was  the  way  she 
came  to  be  named  Daffodil. 


318  HOUSEHOLD   READING. 

Now,  of  all  subjects  of  earthly  happiness  or  ambition,  Clo 
thought  Miss  Daffodil  held  the  pinnacle,.  She  also  thought 
it  a  very  mysterious  arrangement  of  Providence,  that  her 
mother  forbade  her  to  touch  the  doll  without  leave.  It  was 
a  discipline  she  could  not  understand,  and  to  which  she  had 
never  become  fully  resigned. 

Therefore,  on  this  particular  afternoon,  when  her  mother 
had  gone  out  to  walk,  and  left  her  alone,  the  hollow  pleas- 
ures of  her  picture-books  and  paint-box  were  soon  exhaust- 
ed ;  the  attractions  of  the  new  blocks  and  the  tin  soldiers 
served  only  to  prove  that  there  was  an  aching  void  in  her 
heart,  and  she  gave  herself  up  to  the  melancholy  occupa- 
tion of  meditating  upon  her  affliction. 

"  0,  I  never !  donH  she  look  splendid  ? "  she  sighed, 
clutching  tight  hold  of  the  shelf,  to  keep  from  falling. 

"  0  dear  !  her  undersleeve  's  gone  and  come  unbuttoned, 
and  I  'd  oughter  fix  it,  I  know  I  had." 

By  dint  of  great  exertion,  she  managed  to  get  her  chin  up 
high  enough  just  to  rest  on  the  edge  of  the  shelf,  and  then 
she  put  out  one  hand  to  fasten  the  undersleeve. 

"  It 's  only  one  little  button,  and  mother  says  I  must  keep 
all  my  doll's  clothes  in  order ;  she  did,  of  course  she  did. 
She  said  so,  one,  two,  three  yesterdays  ago." 

So  Clo  fastened  the  little  button,  and  strangled  herself 
holding  on  by  her  chin,  meanwhile. 

"  Now,  if  I  only  could  take  her  just  on  the  floor  a  little 
minute,  and  we  'd  play  house,  —  how  nice  I  'd  amuse  me. 
Mother  said  I  must  amuse  me  till  she  came  back." 

Her  eyes  grew  rounder,  and  bluer,  and  larger,  and  she 
began  to  feel  of  the  soft  silk  of  Daffodil's  dress.  Her  little 
fat  hand  looked  like  some  pretty  pink  spider  walking  all  over 
the  flounces  and  trimming. 

"  0  my  !  0,  suz  me  !  " 

Clo  kept  on  looking  and  looking,  and  the  longer  she 
looked,  the  more  she  wanted  the  doll. 

"  Mother  lets  me  have  her  lots  of  timos  ;  she  allers  gives 


mSS  DAFFODIL.  319 

me  to  her,  —  no,  —  I  mean  she  goes  and  gives  her  to  me, 
when  I  've  got  a  headache.  I  do  guess  I  've  got  one  now, — a 
awful  one."  She  put  her  hand  up  to  her  forehead,  and  felt 
all  over  it. 

"  Yes,  I  knew  it  did.  It  just  aches  like  everything,  and 
it 's  goin'  to  make  me  cry  by  and  by,  if  I  don't  have  some- 
thin'  to  play  with." 

Then  she  began  to  cough,  and  choked  a  little,  and  then  she 
groaned  with  the  funniest  little  groan.  It  was  more  like  the 
noise  a  kitten  makes  when  somebody  treads  on  its  tail  than 
anything  else. 

"  I  'm  gettin'  worser  and  worser,  —  I  guess  I  '11  have  to 
have  the  doctor.  May  be  I  '11  be  lyin'  dead  on  the  carpet 
when  mother  comes  home  —  ivouldnH  she  cry,  though  ?  I  do 
think  I  '11  have  to  take  Daffodil  to  make  me  well.  Nobody 
don't  see  me,  and  nobody  won't  never  know,  and  I  '11  just  be 
all  over  it,  and  just  as — just  as  well  as  ever  when  mother 
comes.     I  think  she  'd  oughter  be  real  glad." 

So  Clo  took  hold  of  Miss  Daffodil's  throat,  and  began  very 
slowly  to  pull  her  out  of  the  chair.  But  all  of  a  sudden  she 
stopped,  let  the  doll  fall  back  into  her  seat,  and  began  to  look 
all  round  the  room, — up  to  the  ceiling,  and  down  to  the  floor, 
and  behind  all  the  chairs.  Then  her  face  began  to  grow  very 
red. 

"  I  should  n't  wonder  a  mite  if  He  was  !  "  she  said,  aloud. 

You  see  she  had  a  thought  just  then  —  a  little  quiet 
thought,  that  came  into  her  heart  before  she  knew  it  — 
about  God. 

"  May  be  he 's  right  in  the  room,  and  he 's  been  lookin'  at 
me  all  the  time.  I  don't  guess  he  'd  like  it  a  single  bit,  if  I 
went  and  took  Daffodil." 

She  waited  a  minute,  looking  very  hard  at  the  doll,  then 
around  the  room,  then  at  the  doll  again.  Then  she  turned 
away  her  face,  and  sliut  her  eyes  very  tight,  to  shut  out  all 
sight  of  Miss  Daffodil's  silk  dress  and  flowers,  and  so  climbed 
down  from  the  drawers,  and  shut  the  closet  door. 


320  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

"  There  ! "  she  said,  giving  it  a  little  bang,  "  you  're  a 
hateful,  horrid  door,  and  I  wish  I  had  n't  never  opened 
you." 

When  her  mother  came  in,  about  fifteen  minutes  after,  she 
found  Clo  was  engineer  to  a  long  train  of  cars,  built  out  of 
the  nursery-chairs,  and  looking  as  happy  as  could  be. 

"  Clo,"  she  said,  "  have  you  been  a  good  little  girl  ?  " 

"Yes,  mum/'^  said  Clo,  talking  very  fast.  "I've  been 
just  as  —  0,  just  as  good  as  anything  !  I  thought  I  was 
goin'  to  be  naughty  once  though,  and  then  I  thought  I 
guessed  I  would  n't." 

Her  mother  said  she  was  very  glad,  and  went  to  hang  up 
her  bonnet. 

"  Mother,"  said  Clo,  presently,  giving  the  bell  of  her 
locomotive  a  furious  ring,  —  "  mother,  what  do  people  in  Bos- 
ton, and  Europe,  and  Asia,  and  all  those  places  do  for  a 
heaven  ?  " 

"  0,  they  have  a  heaven  just  as  much  as  we  do,  Clo." 

"  0,  well,  I  suppose  their  heaven  is  just  hitched  on  to  ours, 
then." 

"  No,"  said  her  mother,  biting  her  lips,  "  it  's  all  one 
heaven.     God  is  everywhere,  you  know." 

"  Clear  in  the  closet,  on  the  shelf  ? "  asked  Clo. 

"  He  is  everywhere,  all  at  once,"  said  her  mother.  "  He 
could  see  into  the  closet." 

"  Well,"  said  Clo,  winking  very  hard,  "  I  thought  so  ;  and 
it  scart  me  so  all  to  once  this  afternoon.  I  was  goin'  to  do 
the  awfuUest  thing  —  O,  you  don't  know!  I  was  —  I  was 
goin'  to  -*- 1  was  —  " 

Here  Clo  stopped  to  have  a  little  coughing  fit,  and  then 
began  again. 

"  I  was  going  to  take  Daifodil  down.  I  got  her  clear  out 
of  the  chair,  and  then  I  thought  may  be  He  was  lookin'  right 
down  from  heaven,  —  right  smash  down,  —  and  I  put  her 
straight  back,  and  shut  my  eyes  tight,  and  runned  away," 

Clo's  mother  stooped  down,   and  gave  her  two  or  three 


Extemporaneous  PEEAcmNG.  321 

kisses,  and  said  something  that  made  the  little  girl  very  hap- 
py,—  something  about  being  very  much  pleased  with  her, 
and  about  God's  being  pleased,  too. 

Awhile  after,  she  went  into  the  closet,  and  brought  out 
the  doll.  So  Clo  and  Miss  Daffodil  played  house  till  supper- 
time. 


EXTEMPORANEOUS    PREACHING. 

THERE  are  some  tendencies  in  the  custom  of  preaching 
from  the  manuscript  alone  which  limit  very  generally 
the  effectiveness  of  the  pulpit.  One  of  these  is  a  tendency  to 
sameness.  The  clergyman  who  preaches  written  sermons 
altogether  is  very  apt  to  cast  them  all  in  the  same  mould. 
Many,  it  is  true,  resist  successfully  this  tendency ;  but  still 
the  tendency  exists,  and  the  majority  more  or  less  yield  to  it. 

Another  tendency  is  to  the  adoption  of  the  essay  style, 
that  is,  a  style  litted  for  matter  which  is  to  be  read,  and  not 
heard.  Of  written  sermons  those  are  best  adapted  to  their 
purpose  which  are  composed  as  if  the  preacher  while  writing 
had  his  audience  in  imagination  before  him.  This  can  seldom 
be  effected  if  the  writer  never  speaks  extemporaneously  to  his 
people.  Doing  this  in  the  lecture-room  is  but  a  partial  cor 
rective  of  the  evil.  The  preacher  must  speak  from  his  pulpit 
a  part  of  the  time,  if  he  would  make  his  written  sermons  have, 
in  full,  the  character  of  speaking  sermons.  The  pulpil  of  the 
church  and  the  desk  of  the  lecture-room  are  far  from  beinjr 
the  same  in  the  preacher's  mind  or  in  the  minds  of  his  hearers, 
but  are  different  stand-points  in  his  relations  to  his  people. 

Another  tendency  is,  to  degeneracy  in  the  character  of 
preaching,  or,  at  least,  to  the  hindrance  of  growth.  Those 
who  write  all  their  sermons  write  too  much  to  do  it  as  well  as 
they  should  in  justice  to  themselves  and  to  their  people.     This 

21 


322  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

■writing  just  so  much  matter  weekly,  —  this  writing  by  the 
yard,  as  one  may  term  it,  —  is  a  drudgery  that  in  most  cases 
inevitably  enfeebles  and  dulls  the  mind.  "  His  ordinary  ser- 
mons do  not  show  his  real  power,"  was  said  to  me  of  one  of 
the  most  commanding  minds  in  the  clerical  profession  in  this 
country.  The  explanation  is  found  in  the  quantity  that  he 
writes  so  rapidly  from  week  to  week  for  his  pulpit,  in  addition 
to  his  other  labors  to  which  he  is  called,  from  the  prominent 
and  wide  influence  that  he  exerts  upon  the  public  mind,  I 
am  clear  in  the  opinion,  —  and  I  am  sure  that  any  one  who 
has  had  any  extended  experience  in  composition  will  agree 
with  me,  —  that  clergymen  generally  cannot  write  more  than 
one  sermon  every  fortnight,  without  either  breaking  down 
more  or  less  in  health,  or  failing  to  improve  in  sermonizing, 
or,  perhaps,  even  degenerating.  It  is  only  extraordinary 
mental  power  that  can  enable  one  to  avoid  either  one  or  the 
other  of  these  results. 

Another  tendency  is  to  the  separation  of  the  preacher  from 
the  modes  of  thinking  and  the  sympathies  of  his  hearers. 
This  comes  in  two  ways,  —  there  is  too  much  of  looking  out 
upon  men  from  the  study ;  and  the  amount  of  writing  to  be 
done  interferes  with  the  parochial  duties  which  bring  the 
pastor  into  near  and  practical  fellowship  with  his  people. 
This  isolation  tends  to  bring  into  his  preaching  too  much  of 
either  the  technicalities  of  theology,  or  those  unpractical  spec- 
ulations which  more  suit  the  study  than  the  throng  and 
bustle  of  every-day  life. 

All  these  tendencies  may  be  obviated  by  a  judicious  and 
faithful  use  of  extemporaneous  preaching.  I  say  judicious 
and  faithful,  for  if  there  be  carelessness,  neglect  of  due 
preparation,  too  frequent  use,  or  a  too  large  reliance 
upon  extemporaneous  powers,  there  will  be  failure.  Half 
of  the  sermons  should  be  written.  If  this  be  the  plan,  the 
preacher  will  not  speak  as  if  he  spoke  always,  or  write 
as  if  he  wrote  always.  The  two  classes  of  effort  will 
affect    each    other,  —  the   written   giving   definiteness,   con- 


A  REFOEM-SCHOOL  SCENE.  323 

ciseness,  and  system,  the  extemporaneous  giving  life,  freeness, 
and  adaptation  to  the  actual  present  needs  of  the  audience ; 
the  written  furnishing  the  scholarly  element,  tlie  extemporane- 
ous the  practical ;  the  written  supplying  both  mind  and  heart 
with  the  deep  riches  of  truth,  the  extemporaneous  gathering 
the  resources  of  imagination,  and  of  thought  inspired  and 
elevated  by  a  living  sympathy.  This  mutual  influence  will 
always  be  on  the  increase,  so  that  from  year  to  year  the 
two  modes  of  sermonizing  will  become  more  and  more  assimi- 
lated. 

That  the  plan  which  I  advocate  should  be  universally 
adopted,  I  do  not  claim.  The  elderly  clergyman,  whose 
habits  have  been  long  fixed,  cannot  be  expected  to  change 
them ;  he  would  probably  fail,  if  he  attempted  it.  But  the 
plan  is  a  feasible  one  for  all  young  clergymen,  unless  it  be 
some  few,  who  from  original  constitution,  coupled  with 
defective  education,  are  incapable  of  any  extemporaneous 
effort.  It  cannot,  however,  succeed  fully,  until  there  is  a 
different  mode  of  training  in  our  theological  seminaries.  The 
student  should  be  taught  how  to  speak  as  thoroughly  as  how 
to  write. 


A    REFORM-SCHOOL    SCENE 

THE  long  lines  had  been  signalled  to  enter  their  sleeping- 
cells,  and  stood,  exposing  each  a  hand  through  the  grat- 
ed door,  while  the  watchmen  rapidly  turned  the  bolts.  At 
last  all  was  still,  excepting  the  necessary  movements  of  scores 
of  retiring  boys,  the  tread  of  the  inspector  on  the  corridor, 
and  the  voice  of  one  sobbing  child.  "  That  hoy  must  he  still,''^ 
rang  through  the  vast  hall  in  the  stern  voice  of  the  superin- 
tendent. But  he  was  not  stilled.  It  was  the  chaplain's 
privilege  to  seek  out  and  comfort  the  little  stranger.  He  had 
"  slept  with  his  brother  the  night  before,  in  .the  room  next  to 


324  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

his  parents."  His  "  sister  played  with  him  yesteiiay."  He 
was  "  kissed  by  a  mother's  lip,"  last  night.  0,  how  his 
young  heart  sank  now.  Alone!  A  grated  door!  An  iron 
bedstead  !  No  table  !  No  chair  !  No  friend !  He  had 
thrown  himself  upon  his  bed  as  I  entered,  and  I  took  his  hot 
hand  in  mine.  It  was  not  hard  and  rough  like  the  hands  of 
most  of  his  future  companions.  His  soft  hair  was  evidently 
used  to  lying  upon  his  forehead  in  glossy  ringlets  as  I  saw  it 
now.  After  being  soothed  with  kind  words  and  a  seat  upon 
my  knee,  he  asked,  — 

"  Please,  sir,  will  you  let  me  go  home  ?  I  will  never  steal 
again.   Indeed,  sir,  I  will  not  —  ever.    Can  I  go,  sir  ?    Can  I  ?  " 

He  had  slipped  down  upon  his  feet,  his  tears  ran  like  water, 
and  he  evidently  hoped  to  hear  me  tell  him,  "  Yes."  That 
stern  command,  "  Let  the  noise  in  the  third  corridor  cease," 
could  not  hush  his  earnest  alto  voice  to  a  whisper.  He 
pleaded  to  see  his  mother. 

"  She  will  forgive  me,  sir.  May  I  not  see  her  ?  Oh,  sir, 
I  will  do  right  after  this." 

Let  the  curtain  drop  here.  It  was  but  one  of  numbers  of 
such  scenes.  And  now  that  years  of  active  life  have  inter- 
vened, such  tender  pleas  still  follow  dreams  of  the  day,  as  well 
as  of  the  night,  and  whisper,  "  Pray  for  those  lonely,  misled, 
but  not  yet  ruined  boys." 


LENGTH    OF    LIFE. 

WHAT  an  amazing  lifetime  was  that  of  the  patriarchal 
fathers  of  the  human  race  !  Our  minds  reel  around 
the  very  conception  of  such  a  hoary  age.  Century  after  cen- 
tury passed  over  them,  and  beheld  them  still  in  the  prime  of 
their  enduring  manhood.  It  almost  seems  as  if  nothing  could 
waste  the  lusty  vigor  of  such  a  prodigious  vitality.     Of  those 


LENGTH   OF   LIFE.  325 

ten  lives  whose  moniimeuts  are  set  in  that  early  record,  —  the 
tenth,  reared  rather  on  this  side  the  dividing  waters  of  the 
flood,  —  three  reached  or  exceeded  the  age  of  nine  hundred 
and  fifty  years,  four  just  entered  upon  their  tenth  century, 
one  attained  within  five  years  of  that  century's  birth,  one 
just  failed  to  complete  his  eighth  century,  and  one  left  earth 
in  his  early  youth,  —  not  dying,  but  translated,  his  years 
matching  the  days  of  our  year,  one  year  for  each  day.  The 
single  life  of  Adam  would  overspan  just  thirty-one  genera- 
tions of  the  modern  life  of  humanity,  counting  thirty  years  to 
each  generation.  Reckoning  the  world  since  man  was  created 
to  be  not  yet  six  thousand  years  old,  the  life  of  our  first 
father  prolonged  itself  through  nearly  one  sixth  of  earth's 
present  age.  Six  lives  like  that  of  Methuselah  would  have 
reached  almost  the  dawn  of  this  latest  century  of  time  touch- 
ing the  boyhood  of  some  of  us  who  yet  linger  here. 

To  help  us  conceive  the  breadth  of  one  of  these  ancient 
lives,  let  us  suppose  that  Noah,  the  second  father  of  men,  had 
just  been  borne  to  his  grave  at  the  noon  of  our  century,  and 
trace  back  his  biography  of  nine  and  a  half  hundred  years  to 
see  what  lines  of  human  history  it  would  cross.  He  was  born, 
then,  just  as  Alfred  the  Great,  of  England,  died.  In  his  early 
boyhood,  Harold,  the  last  of  the  Saxon  kings,  fell  beneath  the 
battle-axe  of  the  Norman  conqueror.  He  is  still  young  when 
Peter  the  Hermit  preaches  the  first  crusade.  His  youth  has  not 
yet  passed  when  English  WicklifFe  arises,  —  the  morning  star 
of  the  Reformation.  His  manhood  nears  its  meridian  when 
the  art  of  printing  is  discovered.  The  bark  of  the  Genoese 
touches  the  shores  of  a  new  world  before  that  manhood  wanes, 
and  the  night  of  the  Middle  Ages  pales  before  his  eyes  in  the 
breaking  day  of  religious  reform  and  the  revival  of  letters, 
while  yet  those  eyes  have  suffered  no  dimness  of  age.  In  his 
autumnal  years  the  feet  of  the  Pilgrims  press  New  England's 
storied  rock,  and  the  Puritan  cause  reigns  in  England,  guard- 
ed by  stern  Oliver  and  his  Ironsides.  Peter  the  Great's  im- 
perial apprenticeship  in  Holland,  the  battles  of  Blenheim  and 


326  HOUSEHOLD   KEADING. 

Pultowa  and  Culloden,  the  old  French  and  Indian  wars  of 
our  colonial  story,  the  drama  of  our  own  Revolution,  the  me- 
teoric career  of  him  after  whose  name  only  France  has  again 
run  mad,  —  these  are  with  the  dying  patriarch  events  of  yes- 
terday. History,  of  course,  was  not  so  eventful  in  Noah's 
times  as  in  the  period  over  which  we  have  thrown  so  brief  a 
glance.  But  what  changes  in  the  strange  annals  of  the  mul- 
tiplying and  wide-spreading  race,  —  the  world  drowned  and 
repeopled  from  his  own  loins,  —  saw  those  eyes  that  watched 
the  course  of  time  for  so  near  a  thousand  years. 

Enter  now  some  rural  graveyard  of  our  day,  and  read  what 
the  silent  marble  keeps  on  its  white,  lettered  pages,  "  Died,  an 
'  infant  of  days.'  "  —  "  Departed  this  life  before  the  fifth,  the 
eighth,  the  twelfth  summer,  the  child  of  two  fond  parents." 
—  "Called  in  the  flower  of  youth,  a  young  man,  a  young 
maiden,  —  not  yet  a  score  !  "  —  "  In  the  midst  of  his  useful- 
ness and  activity,  fallen  a  pillar  of  the  Church  or  State,  —  a 
man  of  forty  winters  !  "  — "  Drooped  beneath  the  infirmities 
of  age,  a  mother  in  Israel  of  threescore  and  ten,  a  patri- 
arch .of /owrscore  .^ "  And  so  the  inscriptions  vary.  And 
almost  before  tlie  turf  is  settled  on  the  graves  of  one  genera- 
tion, the  fresh-broken  mold  shows  where  the  next  are  sleep- 
ing by  their  fathers'  side.  What  an  amazing  contrast  with 
that  old-world  record  ;  a  youth  of  seventeen  with  young 
Enoch  of  three  hundred  and  sixty-five  ;  a  patriarch  of  ninety- 
five,  with  an  original  patriarch  of  nine  hundred  and  fifty  ! 
And  when  the  press  hands  about  from  daily  to  daily  an  in- 
stance of  extraordinary  longevity,  —  the  obituary  of  some 
hardy  old  veteran,  who  struggled  forward  with  staff  and 
crutch  to  the  farther  bound  of  a  hundred  years,  —  what  is  it 
more  than  as  the  fleeting  childhood  of  one  of  those  elder 
worthies  ?  If  good  old  Jacob,  at  the  age  of  a  hundred  and 
thirty  years,  could  say  to  tlie  monarch  of  Egypt,  "  Few  and 
evil  have  been  the  days  of  the  years  of  my  pilgrimage  com- 
pared with  the  days  of  the  years  of  my  fathers,"  how  befitting 
is  such  language  to  our  lips,  who  must  repeat  after  Moses, 


NEW  HAMPSHIRE   FEMALE   CENT   INSTITUTION.  327 

"  The  days  of  our  years  are  threescore  years  and  ten,  and  if 
by  reason  of  strength  they  be  fourscore  years,  yet  is  their 
strength  labor  and  sorrow,  for  it  is  soon  cut  off  and  we  fly 
away." 


NEW  HAMPSHIRE  FEMALE   CENT   INSTITUTION. 

THIS  institution  had  its  origin  in  the  late  excellent  Mrs. 
Elizabeth  McFarland,  wife  of  Rev.  Asa  McFarland, 
D.  D.,  many  years  pastor  of  the  First  Congregational  Church 
in  Concord.  She  was  a  native  of  Boston.  Her  father's  house 
was  the  rendezvous  of  clergymen  at  anniversaries  of  the  old 
Massachusetts  "artillery  election."  At  home  on  such  an 
occasion,  in  1805,  she  heard  the  ministerial  guests  conversing 
on  methods  of  raising  funds  in  aid  of  benevolent  objects,  among 
others  that  of  societies  whose  members  should  contribute 
at  the  rate  of  one  cent  per  week.  Pleased  with  the  thought, 
Mrs.  McFarland  felt  that  something  might  be  done  in  this 
way  to  aid  the  New  Hampshire  Missionary  Society,  then  only 
some  four  years  old.  On  returning  to  Concord,  she  named 
the  matter  to  some  of  her  Christian  sisters,  and  a  society  was 
formed,  consisting  of  females,  on  the  principle  of  each  mem- 
ber's contributing  at  the  rate  of  one  cent  a  week. 

The  receipts  of  the  society  the  first  year  were  five  dollars, 
indicating  that  the  membership  did  not  exceed  ten  persons. 
The  next  year  cent  societies  were  formed  in  some  of  the 
neighboring  towns.  The  receipts  that  year  from  the  several 
societies  were  $  34.23.  The  existence  of  these  few  societies 
becoming  known,  like  societies  were  organized  in  still  other 
towns,  in  different  parts  of  the  State,  and  the  third  year  the 
receipts  were  $  129.02.  New  societies  were  formed  from  year 
to  year  with  almost  constantly  increasing  income.  The 
aggregate  receipts  in  1816,  the  twelfth  year,  were  $  1,546.72. 
In  1850,  they  rose  to  $1,891.48. 


328  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

From  tlie  organization  of  the  first  cent  society  in  1805,  in 
Concord,  during  a  period  of  fifty-six  years,  the  total  receipts 
from  the  several  cent  societies  in  the  State  have  been 
$  55,883.88.  The  present  number  of  these  societies  is  a  little 
short  of  one  hundred,  all  of  which  are  embodied  in  a  general 
society  under  the  title  of  "  The  Female  Cent  Institution,"  aux- 
iliary to  the  New  Hampshire  Missionary  Society.  There  is  no 
annual  meeting  of  the  institution ;  indeed,  I  do  not  know  that 
any  such  meetings  were  ever  holden  by  the  general  society. 
The  cent  societies  of  the  several  towns  hold  anniversaries. 
The  vital  bond  of  union  between  them  is  the  Annual  Report 
of  the  Treasurer,  its  only  officer.  A  copy  of  this  Report  is  de- 
signed to  be  sent  to  every  member  of  all  the  cent  societies 
throughout  the  State,  from  which  all  see  at  once  what  the 
whole  have  done  through  the  year,  and  in  this  silent  way  pro- 
voke one  another  to  good  works. 

A  striking  peculiarity  of  these  female  cent  societies  is  that 
they  are,  in  a  great  measure,  self-sustaiiiing.  Many  of  them, 
with  almost  no  influence  out  of  their  own  circle,  have  lived 
vigorously  and  efficiently  for  more  than  half  a  century.  Of 
tlie  20,200  members  of  the  Congregational  and  Presbyterian 
churches  in  New  Hampshire,  13,801  are  females,  of  whom 
some  3,500  are  members  of  cent  societies,  giving  at  the  rate 
of  one  cent  per  week. 

Were  all  the  female  members  of  the  Congregational 
churches  in  the  land  to  contribute  one  cent  per  week  annually 
to  the  cause  of  Home  Missions,  what  incalculable  good  would 
result ! 


A  WINTER   SUNRISE.  329 


A    WINTER    SUNRISE. 

ALL  through  the  long,  dark  winter  night 
The  snow  was  faUing  soft  and  hght, 
While  weary  eyelids  gently  slept, 
Save  tliose  that  patient  vigil  kept. 
Or  those  that  pressed  the  couch  of  pain, 
Seeking  the  blessed  boon  in  vain. 
While  the  wild  pulse  of  life  was  still, 
The  snow-elf  did  his  work  at  will, 
And  through  the  dark  and  silent  night, 
Unheeded,  wrought  his  robe  of  white. 

The  Sabbath  morning's  dawning  ray 
Revealed  the  landscape.     Calm  it  lay 
As  folded  wings  of  seraphim. 
Above  upon  the  horizon's  brim, 
A  belt  of  amber  shed  its  light 
On  field  and  hillside  spotless  white. 
And  glowed  behind  the  bordering  screen 
Of  a  dark  wood  of  evergreen. 

Lovely  amid  that  Sabbath  scene, 

So  pure,  so  breathlessly  serene, 

Like  heaven  in  brightness  and  repose, 

The  church  in  simple  beauty  rose. 

Upon  its  roof  a  snowy  crown 

Resting  like  fleece  of  lightest  down, 

The  smooth  white  slopes  around  it  spreading, 

The  sky  behind  its  glory  shedding, 

It  seemed  in  saintly  grace  to  stand 

Betwixt  earth  and  the  better  land. 

Now  in  the  east  the  brightness  grew 
More  bright,  till  sudden  bursting  through, 
The  full  orb  flashes,  —  tapering  spire. 
Hill,  field,  and  village  catch  the  fire 


8S0  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

And  rays  on  snowy  crystals  gleaming, 
Glance  back  with  myriad  lustres  streaming, 
As  if  were  suddenly  revealed 
The  wealth  in  India's  depths  concealed. 
I  bowed  my  head  before  the  might 
•  Of  Him  whose  fiat  brought  the  light ; 

Who  spreads  the  darkness,  works  his  will 
In  the  smooth  snow-flake,  soft  and  still. 
0  Lord  of  life  and  beauty !  we 
Here  but  thy  glory's  shadow  see. 
Earth  's  but  the  hiding  of  thy  power. 
With  all  its  wealth  of  summer  dower. 
And  autumn  pomp,  and  winter's  snow,  — 
What  then  must  be  its  unveiled  glow  ? 
Let  seraphs  tell,  who  evermore 
Cover  their  faces  to  adore. 
Ah,  thus  do  they,  with  covered  face, 
Pure  spirits,  bow  ?     AVhere  is  our  place, 
Unholy,  but  the  dust,  when  we 
Dare  to  approach  thy  majesty  ? 


NEW  ENGLAND  HOMES  IN  KOORDISTAN. 

TAKING  a  new  route  to  Persia,  for  the  sake  of  visiting 
the  missionary  station  at  this  place,  I  found  myself  here, 
November  1st,  (1862,)  on  the  head-waters  of  the  Tigris,  among 
the  rugged  mountains  of  Koordistan.  Hardly  anything  could 
be  mO-C  romantic  than  the  situation  of  this  town,  which  hangs 
picturesquely  along  the  slopes  of  two  parallel  mountain 
ranges,  divided  by  a  small  tributary  of  the  Tigris.  It  con- 
tains thirty  thousand  inhabitants,  one  third  of  whom  are 
Armenians,  and  a  majority  of  tlie  rest  Koords,  with  a  sprink- 
ling of  Jews,  and  a  few  Jacobite  Christians. 

But  the  point  that  struck  me  the  most  forcibly  at  this 
place  is  the  marvellous  contrast  of  the  missionary  homes  here 


NEW  ENGLAND  HOMES  IN  KOORDISTAN.         331 

to  everything  around  them.  Jnst  outside  of  the  town  I  was 
met  by  Mr.  Knapp  and  Mr.  Burbank,  who  had  notice  of  my 
coming,  and  I  was  by  them  conducted  to  the  bouse  of  the 
former,  through  many  a  narrow  and  crooked  lane.  All 
dusty  and  weary  as  I  was,  from  my  long,  rapid,  and  hard 
journey,  on  which  my  nights  had  been  passed  (as  my  Arme- 
nian host  in  one  instance  very  graphically  stated  the  case) 
"  with  fleas  beneath,  and  mice  above,  and  cows,  calves,  and 
buffaloes  around  me,"  to  be  ushered,  in  that  plight,  and  from 
such  antecedents,  into  the  presence  of  Mrs.  Knapp  and  Mrs. 
Burbank,  was  a  transition  that  utterly  defies  description. 
The  ladies  looked  like  angels,  without  the  use  of  a  figure, 
and  the  clean  and  comfortable  room,  like  a  fairy  mansion. 
Never  was  I  before  more  forcibly  impressed  with  the  power 
of  New  England  women  to  create  oases  in  the  desert,  and 
almost  out  of  nothing. 

And  what  was  the  dwelling  which  presented  such  charms 
to  my  eye,  not  then,  to  be  sure,  in  the  most  fastidious  mood  ? 
A  common  structure  of  the  country,  built  of  huge  blocks 
of  rotten  sandstone  that  abounds  in  the  mountains.  Glass 
windows  had  been  introduced  into  this  structure,  —  the  first 
ever  seen  in  Bitlis.  Hardly  anything  else  had  been  changed. 
A  few  articles  of  the  plainest  furniture,  most  of  them  man- 
ufactured by  natives,  under  the  guiding  hand  of  Mr.  Knapp, 
who  is  a  Yaiikee,  were  so  arranged  and  disposed  by  Mrs. 
Knapp,  —  a  real  "Ophelia"  from  Vermont  in  this  matter, 
though  without  any  acute  angles,  —  that  the  whole  presented 
the  charms  I  have  mentioned.  When  dinner  came,  that  too 
was  thoroughly  New  England  in  style,  and  never  have  I  en- 
joyed a  more  neat  and  comfortable,  though  perfectly  plain 
table. 

Now  think  of  Mrs.  Knapp  suddenly  transferred  from  the 
post  of  a  greatly  respected  teacher  in  the  beautiful  village  of 
Castleton,  Vt.,  to  these  wilds  of  Koordistan.  The  accomplish- 
ments that  adorned  her  station  there  are  by  no  means  wasted 
here.     They  only  shine  the  more  brightly  and  conspicuously, 


332  HOUSEHOLD   READING. 

and  to  far  greater  advantage,  amid  these  wild  and  rude  sur- 
roundings. 

I  hope  I  shall  not  seem  too  material  in  mj  tastes,  in  dwell- 
ing on  this  feature  of  the  missionary  cause.  Though  not  the 
most  important,  it  is  also  not  the  least  so. 


THE    FIRST    DEATH-BED. 

MARY  was  about  nineteen,  a  lovely  and  pleasant  girl,  full 
of  youthful  buoyancy,  and  fond  of  gayety,  yet  meaning 
nothing  but  her  own  enjoyment.  Serious  thoughts  of  things 
unseen  had  frequently  knocked  at  her  heart  for  consideration, 
but  her  worldly  inclinations  had  always  been  deaf  to  their 
admission.  Once,  indeed,  they  had  gained  a  temporary 
entrance  ;  but,  as  she  told  me  afterwards,  her  gay  companions 
proved  too  strong  an  influence  to  be  resisted.  She  lived  like 
thousands  of  other  youth  of  her  age,  quieting  a  now  and  then 
complaining  conscience  with  promises  of  future  attention  to 
its  demands,  which  she  could  never  find  time  to  fulfil. 

At  length  she  was  taken  suddenly  with  a  hemorrhage  from 
the  lungs,  induced  by  a  cold,  which  prostrated  her  at  once 
upon  her  bed.  I  was  called  to  visit  her,  and  expressed  my 
fears  as  to  her  recovery,  and  the  pressing  importance  of  her 
attending  immediately  to  her  long-neglected  duty  to  her 
Saviour,  while  her  strength  was  equal  to  the  work.  But  it 
was  without  any  apparent  impression.  She  was  buoyed  up  by 
a  hope  of  recovery,  which  a  loving  family  were  unwilling 
should  be  dissipated. 

A  few  days  passed  without  any  apparent  improvement  in 
her  health,  or  marked  interest  in  her  mind.  In  about  two 
weeks  her  pastor  was  suddenly  sent  for.  It  was  Sabbath 
evening,  and  near  the  close  of  a  prayer-meeting  which  he  was 


THE   FIRST   DEATH-BED.  333 

attendiug.  The  messenger  came  up  to  the  pulpit  and  whis- 
pered, "  Mary  is  failing  and  is  asking  continually  to  see  you." 
As  soon  as  the  meeting  closed  I  issued  forth  to  pay  the  pain- 
ful visit.  The  night  was  dark  and  the  air  was  full  of  falling 
snow.  The  ride  was  long  and  dreary,  and  passed  over  in  an 
almost  silence  with  a  sobered  driver.  We  were  met  at  the 
door  by  a  weeping  mother ;  who  could  only  say,  "  Mary  is 
calling  for  you  all  the  time,  to  pray  with  her."  I  speedily 
entered  the  room,  and  saw,  in  a  glance  at  the  bed,  that  the 
invisible  messenger  was  there  before  me. 

The  father,  her  two  brothers,  and  a  sister  were  weeping 
around  the  fire  in  suppressed  silence.  Mary,  flushed 'with 
fever,  and  with  arms  flung  in  distress  over  her  head,  was 
moaning  to  herself,  "  I  can't  die  now  !  I  can't  die  now  !  " 

Her  face  turned  quickly  at  my  entrance,  and  she  exclaimed 
with  eagerness,  "  0,  pray  for  me,  I  cannot  die  !  "  During  the 
prayer  she  subsided  into  a  calm,  and  at  its  close  remained 
quiet  with  closed  eyes,  in  evident  anxious  thought. 

I  withdrew  silently  to  the  afflicted  group  around  the  fire, 
and  ventured  a  few  whispered  inquiries  respecting  her  state  of 
mind.  Shortly  .she  opened  her  eyes,  and,  missing  me  from 
her  side,  called  me  back  again.  Supposing  that  some  par- 
ticular request  weighed  upon  her,  I  inquired  what  she  wished. 
"  Pray  for  me  again,"  was  her  instant  reply.  I  endeavored 
to  point  her  to  the  Saviour,  graciously  waiting  to  hear  her 
own  heart  call  upon  him,  and  ready  to  deliver  her  even  at 
this  eleventh  hour  of  her  short  life  ;  but  I  could  not  succeed 
in  directing  her  disturbed  soul  to  the  only  Deliverer  in  death's 
distressing  hour.  I  moved  again  to  withdraw,  but  she  could 
not  have  us  out  of  her  sight.  She  stretched  out  her  now  cold 
fingers,  and  placed  them  in  my  hand,  and  begged  me  pitcously 
not  to  leave  her.  I  sat  by  her  side  and  watched  the  slow 
approach  of  death. 

It  was  now  nearly  midnight  of  a  dark,  stormy,  winter  night. 
The  icy  branches  of  the  large  elms  above  the  house  creaked 
in  the  screaming  blast,  and  it  was  certainly  to  me  a  most 


334  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

solemn  hour,  by  the  bedside  of  that  young  dying  girl,  clinging 
to  her  pastor  as  a  last  earthly  hope,  while  shrinking  in  agony 
from  the  dark  unseen  into  which  she  must  shortly  step.  I  never 
understood  the  "fearful  looking  for  of  judgment"  before. 

At  length  the  last  struggle  came  on.  One  more  exhortation 
to  cast  herself  upon  the  tender  mercies  of  Him  who  loved 
sinners  so  much  as  to  pass  through  death  himself  to  save  them. 
But  to  every  entreaty,  she  replied,  — 

"  I  have  tried  to,  but  he  won't  help  me !  He  won't  help  me ! " 

At  the  last  moment,  I  bent  my  head  down  close  to  her  ear 
and  asked  if  she  was  still  conscious.  She  gave  a  sensible 
pressure  to  my  fingers  in  reply.  I  asked  her,  if  she  could  yet 
trust  her  soul  to  the  Redeemer,  to  repeat  the  same  signal. 
But  no  pressure  came  !  "  She  died  and  left  no  sign."  This 
was  my  first  personal  observation  of  dying,  and  it  haunts  the 
memory  still,  after  many  years. 

Who  of  the  young  is  willing  to  pass  through  this  door  into 
the  dark  domains  of  death  ?  They  that  say  to  the  Holy  Spirit, 
"  Go  thy  way  for  this  time  !  "     Do  you  ? 


TESTIMONY    OF    THE    STARS. 

NEARLY  a  half-century  has  passed  away  since  Dr.  Chal- 
mers preached  his  celebrated  astronomical"  discourses. 
It  was,  we  believe,  the  first  attempt  worthy  of  the  name,  on 
the  part  of  the  Christian  ministry,  to  show  that  science,  in- 
stead of  being  the  supporter  of  infidelity,  is  the  handmaid  of 
religion,  and  that  astronomy  gives  infallible  testimony  to  the 
truths  of  divine  revelation.  Since  the  publication  of  those 
discourses  there  have  been  great  discoveries.  Conclusions 
which  were  then  based  on  probabilities  have  become  certain 
ties,  and  hypothesis,  which  then  was  deemed  possible,  has 
been  proved  to  be  improbable.     Stars  which  then  were  fixed 


TESTIMONY   OF   THE   STARS.  335 

are  found  to  be  in  motion.  Faint  films  of  light  which  were 
dike  luminous  clouds,  changeless  in  space,  have,  before  the 
penetrating  telescopic  eyes  of  these  later  years,  become  im- 
mense systems  of  suns  and  starry  spheres.  Throughout  the 
unfathomable  depths,  new  evidences  have  been  revealed  of 
the  existence  of  a  God  of  wisdom,  power,  majesty,  eternity, 
goodness,  and  glory.  Now,  to  the  human  mind,  as  never 
before,  do  the  "  heavens  declare  the  glory  of  God  and  the 
firmament  show  his  handiwork."  The  discoveries  have 
been  so  rapid,  that  literally  "  day  unto  day  uttereth  speech, 
and  night  unto  night  showeth  knowledge." 

If  the  Church  is  the  conservator  of  truth,  she  has  been,  in 
the  past,  also,  the  conservator  of  error.  When  Columbus,  in 
1486,  met  the  learned  doctors  of  the  Church  in  the  Convent 
of  St.  Stephen  in  Salamanca,  to  propound  his  theory  of 
reaciiing  the  Indians  by  sailing  west,  they  spread  out  before 
him  the  chart  of  the  Geographer  Cosmos,  who,  taking  the 
Bible  for  his  authority,  and  attaching  literal  interpretations 
to  figurative  language,  had  represented  the  heavens  as  spread 
like  a  "  tent  above  the  earth,"  as  spoken  of  by  the  Psalmist. 
The  earth  was  a  body  of  land  surrounded  by  oceans.  It  was 
not  round,  but  a  plane.  In  the  North,  or  beyond  the  Cas- 
pian Sea,  was  an  immense  mountain,  around  which  the  sun 
revolved,  and  which,  by  intercepting  the  sun,  brought  on 
night.  The  great  navigator  was  met  by  citations  from 
Moses,  Job,  David,  Christ,  and  the  Apostles.  Ridicule  was 
used  by  the  learned  bishops.  "  Is  any  one  so  foolish,"  said 
they,  "  as  to  believe  that  there  are  antipodes  where  men  walk 
with  their  heels  upward  and  their  heads  hanging  down  ? 
Where  it  rains,  hails,  and  snows  upward,  and  where  trees 
grow  with  their  branches  downwards?  " 

One  hundred  and  fifty  years  later,  in  1633,  the  Holy 
Inquisition  met  in  the  Convent  of  Minerva  at  Rome.  Be- 
fore the  assembled  prelates  and  cardinals  stood  Galileo, 
the  philosopher  of  Florence.  He  was  old  and  gray-headed. 
He  had  made  a   telescope,  —  the  first  the  world   had  ever 


336  -  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

seen,  —  a  poor  affair,  not  equal  to  those  on  board  a  Down 
East  fishing-schooner.  He  had  looked  through  it  at  the  sun, 
moon,  and  stars,  and,  seeing  new  phenomena,  proclaimed  to 
the  world  that  the  earth  moved.  That  was  a  heresy.  It  was 
contrary  to  the  Bible,  to  their  own  sense  of  sight.  He  was 
laid  upon  the  rack  ;  from  the  rack  he  passed  to  the  dungeon, 
and,  after  a  short  respite,  from  the  dungeon  to  the  grave. 
John  Winthrop  was  then  Governor  of  Massachusetts  ;  not  so 
very  long  ago  as  might  seem.  It  comes  almost  down  to  our 
own  times. 

At  that  time,  in  one  of  the  Lincolnshire  cottages  in  Eng- 
land, there  was  a  pale,  sickly  child,  who,  as  he  advanced  in 
boyhood,  whittled  out  water-mills  and  mouse-machines,  or 
tread-mills  for  the  little  cheese-thieves,  in  which  the  caged 
animals  trotted  all  day  to  reach  a  bit  of  toasted  cheese 
within  an  inch  of  their  noses.  As  he  grew  to  manhood,  he 
read  the  writings  of  the  pious  Kepler,  who,  when  entering 
upon  a  study  of  the  motions  of  the  heavenly  bodies,  after 
praying  that  God  would  guide  him,  rose  from  his  knees  and 
wrote  in  his  diary,  "  I  believe  that  God  works  by  fixed  laws, 
laws  that  may  be  expressed  in  numerical  terms,"  and  who 
was  led,  through  all  the  darkness  of  the  past  ages,  through 
prejudice,  through  scientific  and  theologic  error,  into  the 
clear  light  of  truth,  to  show  to  the  world  that  there  are  no 
contradictions  in  the  works  of  the  Creator  of  all  things,  but 
that  throughout  the  celestial  spheres  there  is  harmony. 

Isaac  Newton  read  the  laws  of  nature  as  laid  down  by  Kep- 
ler,—  that  planets  move  in  elliptical  or  oval  orbits  around 
the  sun,  —  that  a  line  extended  from  the  sun  to  any  planet 
will,  as  it  is  carried  forward  by  the  planet,  sweep  over  equal 
areas  in  equal  portions  of  time,  —  that  the  planets  are  a  har- 
monious brotherhood,  moving  in  regular  motion.  "  Why," 
he  asked,  "  does  nature  have  such  laws  ?  Why  are  the 
orbits  of  planets  ellipses  instead  of  circles  ?  Why  do  they 
move  with  accelerated  motion  when  approaching  ihe  sun  ? 
What  is  the  fixed  law  which  regulates  the  clockwork  of  the 
sky  ?  "  • 


TESTIMONY   OF  THE   STARS.  337 

Theology  gave  one  short  answer  to  all  these  questions,  — 
that  God  governs.  But  Newton  believed,  with  Kepler,  that  God 
works  by  laws  which  are  as  unalterable  as  his  own  immutable 
character,  —  laws  which  in  the  kingdom  of  nature  may  be 
expressed  in  numerical  numbers.  He  saw  the  rain-drops  fall, 
the  apples,  or  whatever  was  left  free  to  move.  Wliat  power 
sent  a  stone,  dropped  from  a  tower,  downward  with  a  velocity 
increasing  in  proportion  to  the  square  of  the  distance  through 
which  it  fell  ?  "What  retarded  it  in  the  same  measure  when 
tossed  upward  into  the  air  ?  If  all  matter  was  free  to  move, 
why  did  not  the  sun,  moon,  and  planets  rush  together  ?  The 
earth  was  round,  but  in  England,  America,  and  China  apples 
dropped  to  the  ground.     Why  ?     It  was  all  a  mystery. 

Kepler  had  devoted  seventeen  years  of  study  to  the  subject 
before  he  declared  to  the  world  that  God  worked  in  nature 
by  law,  and,  in  like  manner,  after  seventeen  years  of  study, 
Isaac  Newton  made  known  to  the  world  that  God  kept  the 
planets  in  their  courses  by  making  every  particle  of  matter  in 
the  universe  attract  every  other  particle  with  a  force  propor- 
tioned to  the  quantity  of  matter  in  each,  and  decreasing  as 
the  squares  of  the  distances  which  separated  the  particles 
increase. 

The  last  step  was  taken,  the  last  discovery  necessary  for 
explaining  the  movements  of  the  heavenly  bodies  was  made, 
and  the  human  intellect  was  commissioned  to  go  out  from 
this  little  speck  of  a  world,  to  sweep  from  orb  to  orb,  meas- 
uring and  weighing  them,  travelling  in  advance  their  paths, 
beholding  them  as  they  will  be  ages  hence,  going  back  over 
the  past,  beholding  them  as  they  have  been  from  the  primeval 
morning,  questioning  them  in  regard  to  the  future,  if  they 
are  destined  to  dash  the  universe  to  atoms,  and  crush  out  all 
the  celestial  wheel-work  of  the  great  eternity  clock,  —  sweep- 
ing from  the  little  orb  lying  close  up  to  the  sun,  out  to  that 
far-off  sentinel  on  the  outer  aisle  of  the  solar  fields,  keeping 
ward  and  watch  in  slow  and  solemn  marches  down  the  path- 
way of  ages ! 

22  • 


838  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

This  last  grand  discovery  was  made  when  our  grandfathers 
were  alive,  —  when  the  grandfathers  of  those  of  us  who  are 
in  the  prime  of  life  were  children.  It  was  in  1680.  Cotton 
Mather  was  just  entering  upon  his  great  career,  and  Boston 
was  the  largest  town  in  America.  The  short  and  hasty  years 
of  two  generations  of  men  only  lie  between  us  and  Sir  Isaac 
Newton. 

The  heavenly  fields  are  wide,  and  they  are  filled  with  in- 
numerable starry  flowers,  which  demand  our  admiration  of 
their  beauties,  and  which  also  demand  our  adoration  of  Him 
who  set  them  on  high  so  bright  and  fair.  The  subject  is  en- 
larging, ennobling,  and  elevating,  and,  at  the  same  time, 
humiliating.  It  is  calculated  to  exalt  the  Creator,  and  to 
abase  the  creature.  Modern  science  has  illuminated  the 
world.  By  the  light  of  the  stars  we  read  the  Bible  under- 
standingly.  Blazing  suns  and  revolving  systems  shine  from 
the  amazing  depths  of  space,  and  there  we  behold  infinity,  — 
eternity. 


LITTLE    WILLIE. 


THE  name  brings  before  me  visions  of  his  blue  eyes  and 
golden  hair,  of  his  rosy  cheeks  where  dimples  loved  to 
linger,  and  the  ruby  lips  that  so  often  used  to  say,  "  Tecer, 
are  I  a  dood  boy  to-day  ? "  But  best  of  all  were  the 
gentle  words  and  winning  smiles  that  made  him  such  a  sun- 
beam in  our  little  school.  His  heart  seemed  overflowing  with 
love  and  sympathy  for  every  one.  I  remember  how  he  came 
to  me  one  day,  after  a  regiment  of  soldiers  had  marched  past 
the  school-house,  bringing  a  strip  of  a  bufialo-robe  covered 
with  long  hair,  which  he  had  found  beside  the  road ;  and  as 
he  held  it  up  he  said,  pityingly,  — 

"  Do  thee ;  thomebody  losth  their  whithkers." 

One  afternoon  I  told  the  primer  class,  of  which  he  was  a 


LITTLE  WILLIE.  339 

member,  how  Christ  took  little  children  in  his  arms  and 
blessed  them,  and  I  taught  them  the  verse,  "  Suffer  little 
children  to  come  unto  me,  and  forbid  them  not,  for  of  such  is 
the  kingdom  of  heaven."  That  •afternoon,  after  school  was 
excused,  as  I  was  locking  my  desk,  Willie  stole  softly  back. 
Climbing  upon  the  desk,  he  put  his  arms  around  my  neck 
and  kissed  me,  saying, — 

"  I  love  00,  tecer." 

"  What  is  love,  Willie?  "  I  asked. 

He  thought  a  moment,  then  replied,  earnestly,  — 

"  It 's  what  makes  us  dood^to  folks."  After  a  little  pause, 
he  added,  "  Tecer,  who  is  Kwist  that  b'est  'ittle  children  ?  " 

Before  I  could  reply,  there  came  a  knock  on  the  door.  I 
opened  it,  and  a  little  girl  handed  me  a  billet,  saying  tim- 
idly,- 

"  Mrs.  Hamlin  supposed  it  had  been  sent  before." 

It  contained  an  urgent  invitation  for  me  to  spend  the  after- 
noon with  a  friend.  I  knew  that  Willie  was  the  child  of  irre- 
ligious parents,  and  that  I  ought  to  encourage  this  his  first 
seeking  after  divine  truth,  but  the  tempter  whispered,  to-mor- 
row will  do  as  well,  and  I  yielded  to  the  voice.  To-morrow  ! 
how  many  broken  hopes,  how  many  duties  unfulfilled,  come 
from  too  firm  a  reliance  on  its  deceitful  promises ! 

But  the  next  day  Willie's  place  was  vacant.  I  missed  the 
bright  face  and  ringing  laugh  of  my  little  pet,  and  after 
school  had  closed,  I  directed  my  steps  toward  his  father's 
house.  On  my  way  I  met  his  sister.  Taking  my  hand,  she 
said,  hurriedly,  —  ^ 

"  0  teacher,  won't  you  come  right  down  to  our  house  ? 
Willie  is  so  sick,  and  he  don't  know  any  of  us." 

In  a  few  minutes  I  stood  by  the  bedside  of  the  little  suf- 
ferer. He  was  tossing  to  and  fro  with  restless  pain,  and  they 
told  me  that  scarlet  fever  was  drying  up  the  fountains  of  that 
young  life. 

As  I  entered  the  room,  he  said,  softly,  "  Who  is  Kwist 
that  b'est  'ittle  children  ? "     Sitting  beside  him,  I  told  Mm 


840  HOUSEHOLD  BEADING. 

then  the  sweet  story  of  the  cross.  But  reason  was  dethroned, 
and  when  I  ceased  speaking,  he  said,  with  pleading  earnest- 
ness, — 

•■'  Pleath  tell  me  who  is  K'\yist  that  b'est  'ittle  children  ?  " 

"  Will  you  pray  forus  ? "  asked  the  father. 

It  was  all  he  could  say,  for  his  heart  was  full.  Kneeling 
there,  I  prayed  that  God  would  spare  our  darling  if  it  was  his 
will,  and  if  not,  that  he  would  comfort  the  h  arts  of  his 
parents  in  their  great  sorrow,  and  make  me  more  faithful  to 
the  little  flock  committed  to  my  charge. 

When  we  arose,  a  convulsion  came  over  Willie,  and  the 
little  form  writhed  in  agony.  It  was  but  for  a  moment,  then  he 
lay  still  with  closed  eyes  and  clasped  hands.  Silently  we 
watched  beside  him,  till  the  ticking  of  the  old  clock  that  stood 
in  one  corner  seemed  like  a  sombre  interlude,  weaving  the 
moments  of  suspense  together.  An  hour  passed  on.  Then 
there  was  another  convulsion.  It  was  longer  and  harder  than 
the  last.  At  its  close  he  lay  pale  and  exhausted.  Suddenly 
he  opened  his  eyes,  and  his  lips  unclosed.  There  was  a 
strange,  agonizing  earnestness  in  his  voice  as  he  pleaded,  — 

"  Pleath  tell  me  who  is  Kwist  that  b'est  'ittle  children : 
oh  !  pleath  tell  me  who  is  Kwist  that  b'est  'ittle  children !  " 

"  Pray  for  him,  for  him,^^  sobbed  the  father,  and  I  prayed 
then  as  I  had  never  done  before,  that  Christ  would  reveal 
himself  to  that  dying  child. 

God  heard  the  prayer  ;  for  as  we  watched  him,  an  exultant 
look  glanced  across  Willie's  face.  He  lifted  his  head  and 
stretched  forth  his  small  white  hands  toward  heaven.  I 
shall  never  forget  his  last  words,  — 

"  There  is  Kwist  that  b'est  'ittle  children  !  I  coming,  I  com- 
ing." And  the  golden  head  was  buried  in  the  pillows.  The 
beating  heart  was  hushed  forever. 

Two  days  after,  when  the  clouds  were  weeping  rain-tears,  we 
laid  him  down  to  sleep.  And  as  the  aged  pastor  told  us  that 
Willie  had  gone  to  see  Jesus  Christ,  who  blessed  little  children, 
there  were   eyes   unused  to  tears,  and  hardened,  sunburnt 


GRACE   ABOUNDING.  341 

faces,  that  were  moistened  with  something  else  than  the  rain- 
drops that  were  falKng  thickly  around  us. 

Brief  was  his  life,  beautiful  his  death,  yet  through  God's 
blessing  they  were  the  means  of  leading  his  parents  to  fix 
their  hopes  for  both  time  and  eternity  on  that  dear  Saviour 
who  blessed  little  children.  And  in  the  great  day  of  account 
how  many  ransomed  souls  will  there  be  who  have  fulfilled  the 
prediction,  "And  a  little  child  shall  lead  them." 


GRACE    ABOUNDING. 

IN  the  town  of  M ,  in  the  State  of  New  York,  there 
lived,  some  years  ago,  an  old  Dutchman,  whose  religious 
experience  is  worthy  of  record.  In  early  life  he  became  an 
advocate  of  Universalism,  and  for  years  labored  with  only  too 
great  success  in  poisoning  the  minds  of  his  neighbors  with 
this  soul-destroying  error.  But  at  length  as  old  age  came  on, 
and  he  began  to  realize  that  eternity  must  be  near  at  hand,  he 
fell  into  trains  of  refl.ection  concerning  his  spiritual  state  and 
prospects.  He  began  to  inquire  for  what  purpose  he  had 
lived,  and  what  preparations  he  had  been  making  for  an  ex- 
change of  worlds.  As  is  usually  the  case  in  such  instances, 
the  more  he  reflected  the  more  his  thoughts  troubled  him. 
He  saw  that  the  error  wliich  he  had  so  industriously  propa- 
gated had  been  of  no  benefit  to  himself,  nor  to  any  of  his 
neighbors,  but  had  only  operated  to  cause  them  to  neglect  all 
serious  preparation  for  eternity,  and  to  live,  in  great  measure, 
in  disregard  of  God  and  divine  things. 

These  conclusions  but  increased  his  unhappiness.  He  now 
began  to  realize  what  he  had  been  about,  and  to  have  glimpses 
of  his  own  character,  which,  with  the  workings  of  conscience, 
distressed  him,  and  led  him  to  look  about  for  help.  In  these 
circumstances  he  resorted  to  various  expedients  for  relief; 


342     •  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

but  all  of  no  avail.  Finally  he  said,  "  I  see  my  mistark ;  I 
mus'  to  as  Jacop  dit."  So  he  told  his  "  old  woman  "  that  he 
did  not  feel  very  well,  and  wanted  his  bed  brought  out  before 
the  fire  that  night ;  and,  after  sending  the  rest  of  his  family 
to  their  rooms,  he  carefully  put  a  fork  over  the  latch,  and 
then,  as  he  said,  "  I  pegins  to  pray,  and  I  prays  and  prays  and 
prays."  Unconscious  of  the  flight  of  time,  he  continued  his 
supplications  all  night.  When  his  son  came  to  build  his  fire, 
and  told  him  that  it  was  morning,  the  father,  in  his  anxiety, 
fearing  that  all  was  lost,  cried  out,  "  0  mine  Gott !  I  have 
lost  de  plessin', — I  'm  goin'  to  hell, — I  'm  an  old  sinner,  and 
I  ought  to  go  to  hell." 

On  looking  round  everything  seemed  changed,  —  appearing 
bright  and  good  and  lovely,  as  never  before.  This  he  regard- 
ed at  once  as  an  indication  that  he  was  about  to  die,  little 
realizing  that  the  change  was  in  himself,  and  not  thinking- 
it  possible  that  he  had  received  the  "  plessin  "  without  know- 
ing it.  On  meeting  his  wife  at  the  door,  he  exclaimed,  "  0, 
how  good  ye  look  !  "  but  he  continued,  "  I  'm  goin'  to  die. 
I  'm  a  great  sinner,  and  I  'm  goin'  to  hell,  and  I  ought  to  go 
to  hell."  He  then  entreated  her  to  seek  religion,  telling  her 
that  she  might  get  the  "  plessin,"  for  she  was  not  such  a  great 
sinner  as  he  was.  To  his  son  and  his  daughter-in-^»  he  ad- 
dressed himself  in  the  same  strain.  As  yet  he  liaj  no  hope 
for  himself,  and  therefore  he  entreated  them  as  one  m^despair. 
And  so  earnestly  did  he  plead  with  them,  and  so  honestly  did 
he  condemn  himself,  and  justify  the  ways  of  God  with  him 
in  casting  him  off,  as  he  supposed,  forever,  that  his  family 
were  soon  overcome  with  their  emotions,  and  by  the  quicken; 
ing  influences  of  the  Spirit  were  led  to  cry  mightily  on  God 
for  help.  In  the  course  of  a  few  days,  hope  dawned  upon  the 
old  man.  His  family  were  soon  found  hopefully  in  Christ, 
and  for  years  they  lived  to  sing  of  his  amazing  grace  and  to 
adorn  the  doctrine  of  God  our  Saviour  in  all  things. 

From  this  brief  sketch  some  important  truths  may  be 
drawn :  (1.)  That  the  sympathies  of  the  truly  convicted  and 


THE  MOURNER'S  PRAYER.  343 

converted  are  thenceforth  on  the  side  with  God,  and  against 
guilty  self.  No  more  complaints  against  God's  law.  (2.) 
Some  people  may  be  Christians  when  they  do  not  know  it. 
(8.)  With  the  renewal  of  the  heart  by  Divine  grace  the 
errors  of  the  head  disappear.  It  is  the  heart  first,  and  above 
all  things  else,  that  is  not  right.  (4.)  Why,  then,  do  not 
God's  people,  clerical  and  lay,  bear  this  in  mind,  and  act  more 
accordingly  ?     Aim  at  the  heart. 

"Not  with  wisdom  of  words,  lest  the  cross  of  Christ  l3e 
made  of  none  efiect." 


THE    MOURNER'S   PRAYER. 

MY  Saviour  dear,  to  thee  I  pray ; 
Through  all  the  sorrow  of  this  day, 
Be  thou  my  strong,  unfailing  stay. 

Closer  than  earthly  friend  can  be, 
When  heart  meets  heart  in  sympathy, 
0  pitying  One,  draw  near  to  me  ! 

"  Ashes  to  ashes,  dust  to  dust,"  — 
To  earth's  unconscious  sod  I  must 
Commit  this  day  most  precious  trust. 

Help  me  in  faith  to  lay  it  there,  — 
"  In  sure  and  certain  hope  "  to  bear 
The  form  I  love  from  out  my  care. 

Watched  over  by  the  sleepless  eye 
Of  Him  who  called  the  soul  on  high, 
It  shall,  I  know,  in  safety  lie. 

Till  he  a  quickening  power  shall  bring, 
And  bid  it,  sown  in  weakness,  spring 
Into  a  glorious  blossoming. 


844  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

And  when,  this  crushing  duty  o'er, 
I  seek  my  lonely  home  once  more, 
Jesus,  draw  nearer  than  before. 

Help  me,  with  resting,  quiet  heart, 
Hiding  away  the  inward  smart, 
To  act  in  life  a  holier  part. 

To  joy,  henceforth,  in  others'  weal ; 

The  grief  of  other  hearts  to  feel, 

And  strive  through  thee  their  wounds  to  heal. 

And  thus,  perchance,  some  blossoms  fair. 
From  out  the  grave  we  hollow  there, 
May  precious  fragrance  to  thee  bear. 


THE    BIBLE    IN    THE    PULPIT. 

THE  Bible  is  not  read  enough  in  our  pulpits.  It  is  re- 
garded as  a  secondary  matter  whether  it  be  read  much 
or  little.  A  leaf  out  of  the  sermon  cannot  give  way  for  a 
leaf  out  of  the  Bible.  Hence,  if  any  part  of  the  service  is  to 
be  shortened,  it  is  the  reading  of  the  Scriptures.  The  hymns 
cannot  give  way,  and  the  prayers  must  occupy  the  usual 
space,  but  the  selections  from  the  Bible,  it  is  thought,  may  be 
easily  curtailed.  I  have  heard  of  a  minister  who  was  cen- 
sured for  making  long  prayers,  and  who  excused  himself  by 
saying  that  he  had  no  means  of  telling  how  long  he  did  pray. 
Perhaps  that  was  the  case  with  those  whom  Christ  censured 
for  long  prayers,  but  he  does  not  seem  to  have  thought  of  that 
excuse.  There  is  really  no  reason  why  the  reading  of  the 
Scriptures  should  be  so  subordinate  to  the  other  parts  of  wor- 
ship. We  pray  and  sing  three  times,  but  we  open  the  Bible 
but  once,  and  that  often  for  the  briefest  space.     This  is  the 


THE   BIBLE   IN   THE   PULPIT.  345 

general  custom,  though  some  of  our  clergymen  read  at  two 
different  times,  and  some  always  read  from  both  the  Old  and 
New  Testaments.  But  so  rarely  is  this  done,  that  many  min- 
isters in  the  course  of  twenty  years  read  no  more  than  a  very 
small  fragment  of  the  Bible.  They  preach,  perhaps,  two 
thousand  sermons,  equal  in  matter  to  a  score  of  Bibles,  and 
read  to  their  people  not  a  hundredth  part  of  the  Bible  itself. 
This  fault  appears  more  plainly  when  we  notice  that  the 
Scriptures  are  not  read  with  system.  But  ought  not  the 
reading  of  the  Scriptures  to  have  a  meaning  and  value  of  it- 
self? And  ought  not  every  book  of  the  Bible  to  be  some- 
times used  ?  If  it  were  so,  a  new  interest  would  be  aroused 
in  that  part  of  the  service.  The  preacher  need  not  read  in 
exact  course.  He  need  not  read  whole  chapters  always,  but 
sometimes  parts  of  several  chapters  where  an  interesting  his- 
tory is  given,  or  where  devout  and  striking  passages  are  inter- 
mingled in  chapters  that  are  chiefly  local,  and  not  instructive 
to  the  general  reader.  In  this  way  every  book  in  the  Bible 
may  be  laid  under  tribute ;  and  in  the  course  of  a  few  years 
a  large  portion  of  the  Scriptures  will  be  read  in  the  pulpit, 
and  the  regular  worshippers  will  be  instructed  in  this  part  of 
the  service.  The  time  spent  in  selecting  and  pondering  suit- 
able portions  for  the  Sabbath  reading  will  be  richly  le'pf.id  in 
the  new  views  of  truth  that  will  open  on  the  preacher'u  i/and, 
and  the  rich  themes  that  will  be  suggested  to  him  foi  I'labo- 
rate  development. 


346  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 


"GONE." 

"  nnHE  Great  Republic  is  gone,"  says  Mr.  Russell  to  the 
JL  British  people.  Of  course  Mr.  Russell  knows.  He 
wrote  Crimean  letters  which  England  read  at  her  breakfast- 
table  with  breathless  interest.  He  has  been  travelling  now 
these  several  weeks  in  the  Great  Republic.  He  was  guided 
through  New  York.  He  saw  the  inside  of  Washington.  He 
wanders  at  his  own  sweet  will  among  the  cotton-fields  of  the 
sunny  South.  He  has  seen  the  forging  of  swords,  the  round- 
ing of  shot,  the  priming  of  guns,  and  he  puts  his  trumpet  to 
his  lips  and  rolls  his  verdict  over  the  ocean,  "  The  Great 
Republic  is  gone  !  " 

Not  so  fast,  my  boy.  A  part  of  it  is  gone,  but  there  are 
several  large  slices  remaining.  A  part  of  it  is  gone,  —  gone 
to  Baltimore,  gone  to  Fort  Monroe,  gone  to  Fort  Pickens, 
gone  to  Cairo,  gone  to  Washington ;  but  there  are  a  few  more 
left  of  the  same  sort,  to  be  had  at  the  shortest  notice,  and 
on  the  most  reasonable  terms.  Gone  ?  Mr.  Russell,  what  do 
you  mean  ?  Is  the  Mississippi  shortened  ?  Is  the  Ohio  dried 
up  ?  Has  Niagara  stopped  agitation  ?  Have  the  prairies  of 
Illinois  grown  barren  ?  Have  the  Pennsylvania  coal-mines 
caved  in  ?  Has  Lake  Superior  given  out  ?  Is  there  no  cop- 
per in  Michigan,  no  lumber  in  Maine,  no  granite  in  Massa- 
chusetts, no  grain  in  Minnesota,  no  gold  in  California  ?  Has 
Mount  Washington  bowed  his  hoar  head,  or  the  Blue  Ridge 
dissolved  in  blue  air,  or  Pike's  Peak  vanished  in  smoke  ? 
Does  Lake  Wenham  no  longer  freeze  in  winter,  or  the  surge 
dash  against  Newport  in  summer  ?  Is  Valley  Forge  forgot- 
ten ?  Has  the  memory  of  Saratoga  passed  away  ?  Have 
Concord,  and  Lexington,  and  Bunker  Hill  given  up  the  dead 
which  were  in  them  ?  Are  there  no  bones  of  brave  men 
buried  along  the  Atlantic  shore?  Are  there  no  deeds  of 
heroes  flaming  in  song  and  story  ? 


"  GONE."  347 

"  The  Great  Republic  is  gone  " ;  but,  Mr.  Russell,  what 
constitutes  a  state  ?     One  of  your  own  poets  has  said,  — 

"  Men,  high-ininded  Men, 

Men,  who  their  duties  know. 
But  know  their  rights,  and  knowing,  dare  maintain. 

Prevent  the  long-aimed  blow, 
And  crush  the  tyrant  while  they  rend  the  chain ; 

These  constitute  a  state  ; 
And  sovereign  LAW,  that  state's  collected  will, 

O'er  thrones  and  globes  elate 
Sits  empress,  crowning  good,  repressing  ill." 

This  is  what  we  are  doing  to-day,  —  repressing  ill  and 
crownuig  good.  This  is  what  we  mean  to  do,  —  crush  the 
tyrant  while  we  rend  the  chain, — a  chain  under  which  we 
have  been  too  long  quiescent ;  but  we  grew  restive  at  last. 
The  iron  has  entered  into  our  souls,  and  now  the  nation 
arises  in  mailed  might,  hurls  off  the  manacles  from  her 
wrists,  and  thrusts  back  the  dagger  from  her  heart.  In  this 
main  ingredient  of  a  state  the  Great  Republic  was  never 
greater  than  now.  What  trials,  what  sacrifices,  what  shame 
or  sorrow  or  humiliation,  await  her  in  the  future  we  do  not 
know  ;  but  as  yet  her  eye  is  not  dim,  nor  her  natural  force 
abated.  The  most  imminent  danger  is  over.  It  lay  in  her 
apparent  acquiescence  in  cumulative  wrong.  Money,  it  was 
feared,  was  becoming  her  god.  She  was  falling  down  before 
material  prosperity.  Success  became  the  criterion  of  merit. 
Show  stood  for  substance.  Luxury  usurped  the  throne  of 
integrity.  Rank,  position,  power,  lorded  it  over  genius, 
merit,  benevolence,  and  the  inflexible  principle  of  right. 
We  have  changed  all  that.  The  lethargy  is  thrown  off. 
The  crisis  is  past.  Life  sweeps  through  her  into  fever,  and 
her  redemption  draweth  nigh.  Her  present  attitude  is  her 
best  vindication  of  her  past  course.  Now  men  and  things 
are  rated  at  their  true  value.  Now  you  shall  see  capital 
vying  with  strength  and  skill  to  insure  that  the  Republic 
receive  no  harm.  You  shall  see  men  giving  up,  without 
hesitation,  the  luxuries,  and  even  the  comforts  of  life  ;  chil- 
dren deny  themselves  toys  ;  women  wear  last  year's  raiment ; 


348  HOUSEHOLD   READING. 

students  turn  resolutely  away  from  the  book-stalls :  all  take 
joyfully  the  spoiling  of  their  goods,  for  a  better  and  more 
enduring  substance. 

The  Great  Republic  is  gone.  Whither  away?  Put  it  at  the 
worst,  Mr.  Russell.  Grant  that  a  line  of  division  be  drawn 
between  the  Free  and  Free-growing  States,  and  the  Slave 
and  Slave-cherishing  States,  what  then  ?  What  element 
of  greatness  is  departed  ?  How  is  virtue  gone  out  of  us  ? 
What  source  of  material  or  moral  strength  is  diminished  ? 
Is  a  tree  killed  when  its  unsightly  branches  are  lopped  off? 
Is  a  state  ruined  when  its  murderers  are  hung  ?  Is  a  man 
dead  when  his  wart  is  cut  out  ?  These  States  are  our  weak 
ness,  and  reproach,  and  shame,  —  a  thorn  in  our  flesh  at 
home,  a  fling  in  our  faces  abroad.  Their  manners  and 
morals  would  be  a  disgrace  to  Dahomey.  Scarcely  a  news- 
paper but  contains  an  account  of  their  hacking,  hewing,  or 
hanging  the  stranger  that  is  within  their  gates.  There  is 
not  a  cannibal  island  in  which  a  Northerner  would  not  be 
just  as  likely  to  travel  safely  as  in  the  South.  You  can 
scarcely  stop  a  day  in  Europe  without  feeling  your  cheek 
redden  by  some  allusion  to  the  Southern  plague.  The  whole 
nation  is  saddled  with  the  weakness,  and  vice,  and  villany  of 
the  South.  They  have  been  the  chief  source  of  our  annoy- 
ance and  trouble  these  forty  years.  They  have  clogged  the 
wheels  of  progress.  They  have  sucked  the  blood  of  religion. 
They  have  clamored,  and  strutted,  and  mouthed,  and  ranted, 
and  bullied,  to  such  an  extent  that  we  are  likely  to  overlook 
even  the  good  things  that  do  exist,  and  may  be  found  among 
them.  They  have  never  paid  their  own  postage,  nor  printed 
their  own  books,  nor  educated  their  own  children,  nor  made 
their  own  shoes.  They  are  a  lady-bug,  sitting  in  the  rose's 
breast,  and  smiling  with  pride  and  scorn,  as  she  sees  a  plain- 
dressed  ant  go  by,  with  a  heavy  grain  of  corn,  —  and  there  is 
a  great  deal  more  of  the  bug  in  them  than  of  the  lady.  Mr. 
Russell,  what  are  you  talking  about  ?  There  is  not  a  Free 
State,  I  verily  believe,  that  would  not  be  glad  at  this  moment 


"  GONE."  349 

to  be  quit  of  t'/ie  whole  slave  South,  if  it  could  be  done  with 
honor  to  ourselves  and  with  justice  to  the  memory  of  her 
loyal  dead  and  the  weal  of  her  loyal  living.  "We  could 
slough  her  off  at  any  moment,  and,  for  all  dependence  on 
her,  never  know  it.  We  might  be  short  of  calico  for  a  while, 
but  in  a  year  or  two  somebody  in  Connecticut  would  invent 
a  superior  article  —  impossible  to  be  torn,  and  warranted  to 
wash  —  out  of  winter-killed  grass.  We  should  be  more 
modest  than  now,  —  the  loudest  braggart  element  being 
gone,  —  and,  consequently,  more  agreeable.  In  a  little 
while  Canada  and  the  North  would  unite,  frame  a  new 
Constitution,  which  should  embrace  all  the  good  and  reject 
all  the  evil  of  both  British  and  American,  call  ourselves  by 
a  new  name,  the  auspicious  and  beautiful  Italian  name, 
Columbia,  and  behold  a  young  nation  girding  its  loins,  and 
starting,  with  lithe  and  sinewy  limbs,  on  such  a  race  as  the 
world  has  not  yet  witnessed. 

Mr.  Russell,  neither  you  nor  I,  wise  nor  foolish,  can  see  a 
hair's  breadth  before  us  in  this  tempest ;  but  my  vision  is 
every  whit  as  likely  to  come  true  as  your  lugubrious  vaticina- 
tions. 

"  The  Great  Republic  is  gone."  Yes,  thank  heaven,  the 
Great  Republic  that  you  saw  is  gone.  That  was  a  great 
image,  whose  brightness  was  excellent,  and  the  form  thereof 
terrible.  This  image's  head  was  of  fine  gold,  but,  alas !  his 
feet  were  part  of  iron  and  part  of  clay.  Therein  lay  his 
weakness.  His  base  feet  baffled  the  fine  gold  of  his  head. 
You  think  you  have  seen  the  blow  given  which  is  to  hurl 
this  great  image  to  ruin.  Not  you.  You  have  seen  a 
pebble  flung  up  against  his  invulnerable  head.  The  stone 
which  is  to  destroy  him  was  cut  out  without  hands.  It  is 
the  spontaneous,  inexpressible  uprising  of  a  great  people  that 
will  to  be  free.  They  will  smite  the  image  on  his  feet  that 
are  of  iron  and  clay,  and  break  them  to  pieces,  and  old 
things  shall  pass  away.  This  spirit  of  freedom  shall  become 
the  soul  of  another  republic,  springing  up  on  the  same  soil, 


350  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

but  more  glorious  than  the  old.  It  shall  become  a  great 
mountain,  and  fill  the  whole  earth.  No  oppressor  shall  pass 
through  it  any  more.  Nations  shall  walk  in  the  light  of  it ; 
and  the  kings  of  the  earth  shall  bring  their  glory  and  honor 
into  it. 

Have  you  seen  a  dark  stain  on  the  pavements  of  Baltimore  ? 
It  is  the  baptismal  seal  of  this  new  republic,  whose  corner- 
stone is  universal  right,  whose  headstone  shall  be  brought 
forth  with  shoutings,  crying,  "  Grace,  grace  unto  it."  Do 
you  see  there  only  a  mad  conflict  of  chaos  with  chaos  ?  But 
"  I  see  the  skies  grow  ruddy  with  the  deepening  feet  of 
angels." 

"  The  Great  Republic  is  gone."  Mr.  Russell,  do  not  you 
be  too  sure.  You  come  of  good  English  stock,  and  you  must 
be  familiar  vsdth  the  thrilling  history  of  Chicken  Little. 
Chicken  Little  rushed  to  Hen  Pen  one  day  with  the  startling 
news  that  the  sky  was  falling  ! 

"  How  do  you  know  that  ?  "  says  Hen  Pen. 

"  I  heard  it  with  my  ears,  I  saw  it  with  my  eyes,  and  a  part 

OF  IT  FELL  ON  MY  TAIL  !  " 

The  force  of  evidence  could  no  further  go,  it  would  seem ; 
yet  the  sky  smiles  as  serenely  to-day  as  when  the  morning 
stars  sang  together.  It  was  only  a  roseleaf  fluttering  earth- 
ward which  Chicken  Little's  sensitive  tail  intercepted. 

But,  Mr.  Russell,  mark  well  the  fate  of  Chicken  Little. 
He  died  a  victim  to  the  panic  which  he  originated.  It  was 
only  a  roseleaf,  but  it  might  just  as  well  have  been  the  sky,  so 
far  as  he  was  concerned,  for  he  and  Hen  Pen  and  Duck 
Luck,  and  the  whole  fear-stricken  company  rushed  into  the 
jaws  of  Fox  Pox,  and  not  a  feather  remains  to  mark  the  spot 
where  they  fell. 

"  The  Great  Republic  is  gone."  Mr.  Russell,  those  who 
have  a  tender  regard  for  your  reputation  are  beginning  to 
think  it  may  not  be  amiss  for  you  to  follow  suit ! 


OPINIONS   OF  A  NEGRO.  351 


OPINIONS    OF    A    NEGRO. 

ON  the  steamer  from  City  Point  to  Fort  Monroe,  I  came 
upon  a  group  of  negro  soldiers  in  friendly  conversation 
and  banter  with  some  white  soldiers.  They  were  all  on  a 
furlough,  and  consequently  good-natured.  The  colored  men 
were  going  to  Norfolk ;  they  had  been  selected  for  merit  as 
entitled  to  a  furlough.  One  was  a  sergeant,  —  a  fine,  open- 
faced,  well-formed  man  of  twenty-seven  or  twenty-eight 
years,  with  his  sword  at  his  side. 

He  heard  the  conversation  on  fighting-men,  high  bounties, 
etc.,  in  silence,  till  a  battery-man  turned  to  him  and  asked, — 

"  What  bounty  did  you  get  ?  " 

"  No  bounty.  I  would  n't  enlist  for  bounty.  I  have 
twenty-three  more  months  to  put  in.  I  don't  say  I  will  go 
in  again,  —  can't  tell  that  till  the  time  comes  ;  but  if  I  do,  it 
will  not  be  for  bounty.  I  would  n't  fight  for  money ;  my 
wages  is  enough." 

"  How  much  pay  do  you  get  ? " 

"  Seven  dollars  a  month,  till  they  riz  to  sixteen.  That 
keeps  me  along  right  smart.  Them  big-bounty  men  don't 
make  good  soldiers." 

"  What 's  the  matter  with  them  ? " 

"  Dey  come  in  for  money,  dere  is  no  country  'bout  it,  an' 
dey  has  n't  no  stomach  for  fighting  an'  digging  an'  knocking 
around  like  soldiers  has  to." 

"  What 's  money  got  to  do  with  that  ?  Why  can't  a  man 
fight  just  as  well  if  he  leaves  a  thousand  dollars  in  bank  to 
have  when  he  comes  back,  may  be  sick  or  wounded  ?  " 

"  Well,  he  mout ;  but  you  see  it 's  the  greenbacks  that 
fetches  him  in,  an'  he  keeps  studying  how  he  can  jump  for 
anoder  bounty ;  an'  dem  sort  o'  soldiers  ain't  no  'count  for 
fightin'." 


oo2  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

"  Sergeant,  did  n't  you  enlist  'cause  you  had  run  away 
from  master,  and  had  no  place  ? " 

"No,  sir  (with  spirit).  I  had  a  place  an'  good  wages, — 
heap  more  'n  a  soldier  gets,  —  driving  team  for  quartermas- 
ter ;  and  when  I  told  him  I  was  going  in,  and  wanted  my 
back  pay,  he  cussed  me,  and  said  I  should  n't  'list.  I  told 
him  I  had  a  right,  and  I  would,  and  all  I  asked  of  him  was 
to  pay  what  was  coming  to  me,  —  more  'n  two  hundred  dol- 
lars. He  swar  and  took  on  about  'resting  me,  and  next  day 
when  I  had  'listed,  he  saw  me  on  the  street,  and  called  a 
guard  and  put  me  in  irons  ten  hours.  Dat  's  my  bounty, 
two  hundred  dollars'  wages  gin  up,  and  ten  hours  in  irons 
by  a  copperhead  quartermaster." 

The  soldiers  had  gathered  around,  highly  interested  in.  the 
sergeant's  straightforward,  earnest  story. 

"  I  'd  a  split  his  copper  head  open  with  the  irons,"  said 
one  of  them. 

"  That 's  not  me,"  said  the  Sergeant.  "  I  don't  take  ven- 
geance, —  dat 's  God's  business,  and  he  '11  work  it  to  suit 
hisself." 

The  men  drew  back  a  little,  and  were  silent  all  around  the 
ring. 

I  stepped  forward,  and  said  to  him,  "  Sergeant,  how  long 
have  you  been  a  Christian  ?  " 

He  looked  at  me  with  a  full,  quick  eye,  as  if  he  had  found 
a  brother,  "  Ten  years,  sir."  . 

"  How  old  are  you  ?  " 

"  Twenty-eight,  sir." 

"  Then  you  were  converted  when  you  were  eighteen  years 
old.     Where  did  you  live  ?  " 

"  Near  Richmond." 

"  Have  you  a  wife  ?  " 

"  Yes.  I  left  my  wife  and  son  when  McClellan  came  close 
up  to  Richmond,  and  everybody  reckoned  he  was  going  to 
walk  in." 

"  How  old  is  your  son  ? " 


OPINIONS   OF  A  NEGRO.  353 

"  Not  quite  a  year  when  I  got  away." 

"  Do  you  hear  from  them  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  seen  a  lady  from  thar  in  Norfolk,  and  she  said  my 
master  done  an'  sole  Nancy  and  de  boy." 

"  You  will  hardly  see  them  again,  will  you  ?  " 

"  When  dey  get  done  fighting,  I  reckon  I  can  find  her." 

"  But  you  won't  know  where  to  look." 

"  Den  I  '11  keep  looking,  an'  I  reckon  I  '11  find  'em.  Any- 
how, I  trust  in  Providence  about  it." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?  " 

"  I  mean  de  Lord  God  Almighty ;  he  knows  all  'bout  it, 
and  he  will  do  what 's  right." 

"  Yes,  Sergeant,  the  Lord  may  do  what 's  right,  but  the 
man  who  has  bought  Nancy  and  your  baby  and  carried  them 
oflf  may  not  do  what 's  right  about  it.     What  then  ?  " 

"  Why  den  I  reckon  dat 's  for  him  to  settle  'bout;  I 'se 
nothing  to  do  wid  dat." 

"  You  are  pretty  near  your  master.  He  might  be  looking 
for  you  one  of  these  days." 

"  Yes,  he  mout,  and  den  I  mout  be  looking  for  him. 
Chance  de  same  on  both  sides  now.  They  say  my  master 
was  'scripted,  a;id  had  to  go  in." 

"  Perhaps  you  will  have  a  chance  yet  to  pay  him  back," 
said  the  battory-man. 

"  I  never  pays  back.  De  Lord  Almighty  takes  the  ven- 
geance. Dat 's  hisen,  an  I  don't  have  nothing  to  do  wid 
it." 

"  That 's  his  doctrine  again.  He  sticks  to  his  text,"  says 
a  Pittsburg  soldier.  "  He  's  right,  too,  all  the  time,"  said 
another. 

"  Well,  Sergeant,  have  you  really  made  much  by  running 
away  ? " 

"  Made  much  ?  I  made  two  hundred  dollars  in  Norfolk, 
but  did  n't  get  it." 

"  I  mean,  you  are  not  much  better  off  soldiering,  lying  out 
in  the  wet.  and  digging  in  the  trenches,  and  going  in  where 

23 


354  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

the  minie-balls  hum.  That 's  not  much  better  than  to  be 
at  home  on  the  old  plantation  with  wife  and  baby." 

"  Soldiering  is  hard  work,  but  there  is  a  heap  of  dif- 
ference." 

"  What 's  the  difference  ?  " 

"  Freedom,  sir,  freedom !  I  say  liberty  in  Dutch  Gap.  I 
wake  up  in  the  night  and  say  liberty.  Yes,  there  's  a  heap 
of  difference.     I  can  say  liberty  all  de  time." 

"  You  said  you  enlisted  for  your  country.  "What  has  your 
country  done  for  you  except  to  give  you  a  chance  to  make 
tobacco  and  cotton  for  your  master,  and  have  your  wife  and 
baby  sold  down  in  Georgia  ?  " 

"  God  has  done  a  heap  for  me.  He  has  given  me  my  life. 
I  never  had  no  sickness,  and  now  he  's  done  and  made  me 
free,  and  I  am  willing  to  fight  for  de  rest  of  them." 

"  Sergeant,  do  you  know  that  you  are  just  like  Jeff  Davis 
on  the  war  question  ?  " 

"  Not  much,  I  reckon." 

"Exactly  alike,"  I  said;  "you  are  both  fighting  for  the 
nigger." 

"  That  may  be,  but  it  makes  a  heap  o'  odds  which  whips." 

"  God  be  praised  for  such  piety  and  patriotism !  "  came  from 
my  thankful  heart,  and  I  parted  with  the  Sergeant  going  to 
the  Norfolk  boat,  with  a  prayer  for  the  mother  and  baby  far 
away,  and  that  a  country  saved  by  such  devotion  may  learn 
at  last  to  deal  justly  by  all  her  children. 


SYSTEM   IN   BENEVOLENCE.  855 


SYSTEM    IN    BENEVOLENCE. 

NOWHERE  is  system  more  important  than  in  our  chari- 
ties. Each  church  should  have  a  well-digested  plan  of 
its  own.  Let  it  be  decided  for  what  objects  a  public  contri- 
bution shall  statedly  be  taken  ;  let  there  be  a  definite  order 
in  which  the  various  objects  decided  on  shall  receive  atten- 
tion, each  having  its  appointed  month  or  week  ;  and  when 
the  time  for  a  given  collection  cornqs,  let  it  be  taken. 

Here  is  a  work  for  pastors  and  churches  too  generally  neg- 
lected, faithful  attention  to  which  would  give  a  new  impulse 
to  all  our  benevolent  operations.  And  individual  contribu- 
tors, as  well  as  churches,  should  have  a  system  based  on  the 
Scriptural  principle  of  statedly  setting  apart  a  certain  per 
cent  of  their  income,  giving  as  the  Lord  prospers  them.  Af- 
ter all  that  has  been  said  and  written  on  this  subject  during 
the  last  few  years,  it  is  proved  that  no  considerable  portion  of 
professing  Christians  have  adopted  any  scheme  of  systematic 
giving.  How  many  in  our  churches  have  conscientiously  de- 
voted to  the  Lord,  beforehand,  a  fifth,  or  a  tenth,  or  a  twen 
tieth  of  their  income  ?  How  many,  at  the  beginning  of  the 
year,  have  any  idea  what  they  shall  give  in  charity,  or,  at 
the  close  of  the  year,  have  any  idea  how  much  or  how  little 
they  have  given  ?  How  many  are  there  who  do  not  leave 
this  whole  matter  at  loose  ends,  giving  only  in  a  haphazard 
way,  without  any  settled  plan  or  principle  ?  It  surely  ought 
not  so  to  be. 

From  this  state  of  things  arises  the  necessity  for  one  of 
those  evils  in  our  charitable  movements,  of  which  they  are 
most  ready  to  complain  who  do  least  for  its  abatement. 
There  has  been,  for  years,  a  widespread  grumbling  over  the 
expensive  employment  of  agents  in  collecting  funds.  And 
certainly  it  is  highly  desirable  to  remove  this  wasteful  encum- 
brance from  our  machinery.     But  how  is  it  to  be  removed  ? 


856  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

Not  by  complaints,  however  loud  and  oft  repeated.  The 
societies  themselves,  who  employ  agents,  would  gladly  be  rid 
of  them.  Let  the  funds  come  forth  freely  and  spontaneously, 
and  agents  will  disappear  like  dew  before  the  sun.  We  do 
not  hire  men  to  pump  water  from  a  full,  outgushing  fountain. 
There  has  to  be  a  great  deal  of  pumping  done  to  bring  the 
water  up  from  the  low  and  shallow  wells  of  our  charity. 
Agents  are  but  men  at  the  pump.  Let  our  wells  become 
overflowing  fountains,  and  their  trade  will  be  gone.  •  Let 
Christians  give  from  principle,  and  systematically ;  let  the 
churches  do  their  own  collecting  from  principle,  and  sys- 
tematically, and  the  evil  complained  of  is  removed.  Let  the 
members  of  our  churches  generally  adopt  the  Divine  plan  of 
systematic  charity  proportioned  to  their  means,  giving  not 
less  than  a  tenth  of  their  income,  and  more,  as  their  property 
increases,  and  the  treasuries  of  our  benevolent  societies  will 
be  quickly  replenished,  and  kept  full  to  overflowing. 

Why  shall  not  the  experiment  be  tried  ?  Surely  it  is  time 
for  us  to  realize  more  fully  that  the  gold  and  silver  are  the 
Lord's,  and  that  we  are  but  his  stewards,  to  use  it  in  his  ser- 
vice. A  perishing  world  sends  up  its  urgent  appeal  by  day 
and  by  night.  The  great  work  of  its  redemption  is  but  just 
begun.  We  must  enlarge  our  hearts,  and  enlarge  our 
charities,  if  we  would  see  the  Saviour  ride  forth  conquering 
and  to  conquer. 


MONICA    AND    HER    SON. 

ABOUT  the  year  350  of  the  Christian  era,  there  lived  at 
Thegaste,  in  Africa,  a  woman  who  bore  the  name  of 
Monica.  She  possessed  that  meek  and  quiet  spirit  which  is 
of  great  price  in  the  sight  of  the  Lord.  While  yet  a  virgin, 
she  had  embraced  the  Christian  faith,  and  over  her  disposition, 
naturally  gentle,  the  religion  of  Jesus  had  exerted  its  holy  in- 


MONICA   AND   HER    SON.  357 

flucnce,  thus  making  her  a  Mary  who  delighted  to  sit  at  the 
feet  of  the  heavenly  Master. 

In  the  providence  of  God,  she  became  the  wife  of  Patricias 
Augustine,  who  was  precisely  her  opposite  in  disposition.  He 
was  extremely  irascible,  and  almost  demoniacal  in  temper. 
Slie,  however,  meekly  endured  his  harshness,  and  in  the 
arms  of  her  faith  bore  him  to  the  throne  of  grace.  "  The  un- 
believing husband,"  though  born  and  nurtured  a  heathen, 
"  was  sanctified  by  the  believing  wife."  When  at  length  his 
earthly  career  was  closed,  her  eye  of  faith  followed  his  depart- 
ing spirit,  and  saw  him  take  his  place  at  the  right  hand  of  the 
adorable  Redeemer. 

One  child,  a  son,  followed,  by  the  mother's  side,  the  father 
to  the  grave.  0,  how  did  the  motlier  pray  that  Aurelius 
might  be  a  comfort  to  her  in  her  widowhood.  But,  alas !  he 
was  "  vile."  He  had  passions  whose  strength  was  equalled 
only  by  their  corruptness.  Stimulated  to  evil  conduct  by 
temptations  without,  which  appealed,  not  in  vaiii,  to  strong 
passions  within,  he  wandered  into  ways  which  were  offensive 
to  God,  and  a  great  grief  to  his  mother.  After  acquiring  an 
education  such  as  his  native  place  afforded,  he  went  to  Car- 
thage, and  thence  to  Rome,  and  thence  to  Milan,  where  he 
spent  many  years  in  teaching  oratory.  Here  he  became 
grossly  profligate,  and  lived  in  open  violation  of  the  seventh 
commandment. 

Meanwhile  the  mother,  Monica,  prayed  with  great  earnest- 
ness. For  more  than  thirty  years,  she  hoped  against  hope, 
and  maintained  confidence  in  God,  when  everything  but  his 
naked  promises  prompted  to  despair.  Filled  with  anxiety 
which  none  but  a  mother  can  feel,  who  believes  that  "  sin, 
when  it  is  finished,  bringetli  forth  death,"  as  she  contemplated 
the  sinful  career  of  her  wayward  son,  she  could  not  rest  in 
Africa,  while  he  was  away  from  her.  She  longed  to  look 
upon  him  with  her  eyes,  and  fold  him  to  her  aching  heart, 
and  to  breathe  into  his  ear  words  of  affectionate  entreaty. 
She  left  her  home  and  found  her  way  to  her  sen. 


358  HOUSEHOLD  EEADING. 

A  little  previous  to  this,  Ambrose,  who  was  the  Governor, 
became,  by  unanimous  consent,  the  Bishop  of  Milan.  His 
heart  warmed  towards  the  young  and  ambitious  orator,  and 
his  prayer  was,  that  his  talents  as  a  public  speaker  might  be 
consecrated  to  the  service  of  God.  Augustine  listened  to 
him  ;  his  conscience  testified  to  the  truth  of  his  words,  but  the 
"  law  in  his  members "  was  opposed  to  the  convictions  of 
duty,  and  obtained  the  mastery  over  him. 

The  mother  took  counsel  with  Ambrose,  and  they  labored 
and  prayed  in  unison  for  the  conversion  of  the  son.  He  was 
prevailed  upon  to  put  away  the  idol  of  his  heart,  and  she  was 
sent  to  Africa ;  but  so  vagrant  were  his  heart's  desires,  that 
he  soon  set  up  another  idol.  Who  would  wonder  if  history 
had  recorded  that,  under  these  circumstances,  the  faith  of  the 
mother  had  failed  ?  Who  would  be  surprised,  had  it  been 
written  that  her  hands  hung  down  and  her  heart  was  broken  ? 
History  does  not  so  record.  It  tells  how  her  faith  in  God 
rose  triumphant  over  every  obstacle.  She  gave  herself  to 
prayer  anew,  with  a  faith  which  did  not  falter.  It  soon  had  its 
reward,  for  God  had  mercy  on  her  son.  He  delivered  him 
from  the  bondage  and  pollution  of  sin  ;  and  he  became  a  free- 
man in  Christ  Jesus  our  Lord.  Who  can  describe  the  feel- 
ings of  the  mother,  when  that  son  fell  upon  her  neck,  and 
told  her  he  had  found  Jesus  ?  All  her  struggles  for  more 
than  thirty  years  were  forgotten.  The  emotions  of  gratitude 
and  joy  drove  from  her  remembrance  the  sorrows  of  the  past. 

Her  work  was  done.  She  had  lived  to  see  him  converted. 
She  felt  like  Simeon.  The  language  of  her  heart  was,  "  Now 
lettest  thou  thine  handmaid  depart  in  peace,  for  I  have  seen 
thy  salvation."  She  wanted  to  die  at  Thegaste,  but  before 
the  journey  was  completed,  Christ  took  her  to  himself. 

Augustine  grieved  over  her  loss.  He  who,  had  she  died 
while  in  his  sins,  would  have  rejoiced  that  a  faithful  reprover 
was  removed,  now  deeply  mourned  that,  just  as  he  had  learned 
to  appreciate  her  worth,  she  must  be  taken  from  him.  This 
son  became  Bishop  in  Hyppo. 


MONICA  AND  AUGUSTINE.  '  359 

Let  mothers  who  have  wayward  sons  continue  instant  in 
season  and  out  of  season.  Let  them  continue  in  prayer. 
God  will  hear  their  supplications,  and  answer  them  in  his 
own  time.     Save  faith  in  Crod. 


MONICA    AND    AUGUSTINE. 

[The  following  passages  from  the  life  of  Saint  Augustine  and  his  mother  may  be 
found  in  his  "Confessions."] 

IN  the  martyr  Cyprian's  chapel  there  was  moaning  through  the 
night ; 
Monica's  low  prayer  stole  upward  till  it  met  the  early  light : 
Till  the  dawn  came,  walking  softly  o'er  the  troubled  sea  without, 
Monica  for  her  Augustine  wept  the  dreary  watches  out. 

"  Lord  of  all  the  holy  martyrs  !  Giver  of  the  crown  of  flame 
Set  on  hoary-headed  Cyprian,  who  to  thee  child-hearted  came. 
Hear  me  for  my  child  of  promise  !     Thou  his  erring  way  canst  see ; 
Long  from  thee  a  restless  wanderer,  must  he  go  away  from  me  ? 

"  'T  is  for  thee,  0  God !   a  mother  this  her  wondrous  child  would 

keep  ; 
Through  the  ripening  of  his  manhood  thou  hast  seen  me  watch  and 

weep : 
Tangled  in  the  mesh  of  Mani,  groping  through  the  maze  of  sense, 
Other,  deadlier  snares  await  him,  if  from  me  he  wander  hence. 

"  Thine  he  shall  be,  Lord  !     Thy  promise  brightens  up  my  night  of 

fears  ; 
Faith  beholds  him  at  thy  altar,  yet  baptized  with  only  tears  ; 
For  the  angel  of  my  vision,  came  he  not  from  thy  right  hand, 
Whispering  unto  me,  his  mother,  '  Where  thou  standest   he   shall 

stand '  ?  * 

*  While  Augustine  was  yet  a  believer  in  Manicheism,  his  mother  dreamed 
that  a  shining  youth  came  to  her,  telling  her  that  her  son  shall  stand  just  where 
she  is.  Augustine  interpreted  it  to  mean  his  mother's  conversion  to  his  belief; 
but  she  replied  :  "  No,  no  ;  it  was  not  said  to  me,  '  Where  he  is,  there  shult  thou 
be  also ' ;  but,  '  Where  thou  art,  there  shall  he  be  also.'  " 


360  HOUSEHOLD   EEADING. 

"  Saviour,  Lord,  whose  name  is  Faithful !     I  am  thine,  —  I  rest  on 

thee  ; 
And  beside  me  in  thy  kingdom  I  this  wanderer  shall  see. 
Check  the  tide  !  hold  still  the  breezes  !  for  his  soul's  beloved  sake 
Do  not  let  him  leave  me  !     Keep  him,  keep  him !  lest  my  heart 

should  break  ! " 

When  the  sun  looked  o'er  the  water,  Monica  was  on  the  shore ; 
Out  of  sight  had  dropped  the  vessel  that  afar  Augustine  bore ; 
Home  she  turned,  her  sad   heart   singing  underneath   its  load  of 

care,  — 
"  Still   I   know   thy   name   is   Faithful,  0   thou  God   that  hearest 

prayer ! " 

Man  must  ask,  and  God  will  answer  ;  yet  we  may  not  understand, 
Knowing  but  our  own  poor  language,  all  the  writing  of  his  hand  : 
In  our  meagre  speech  we  ask  him,  and  he  answers  in  his  own  ; 
Vast  beyond  our  thought  the  blessing  that  we  blindly  judge  is  none. 


By  the  garden-beds  of  Ostia  now  together  stand  the  twain, 
Monica  and  her  Augustine,  looking  o'er  the  beauteous  main 
To  the  home-land  of  Nuraidia,  hiding  in  the  distance  dim. 
Where  God  parted  them  in  sorrow,  both  to  bring  the  nearer  him. 

Now  the  mother's  prayer  is  answered,  for  their  souls  are  side  by 

side 
Where  his  peace  flows  in  upon  them  with  a  full,  eternal  tide ; 
And  Augustine's  thought  is  blending  with  the  murmur  of  the  sea, 
"  Bless  thee.  Lord,    that   we   are  restless,  till  we  find  our  rest  in 

thee ! " 

And  their  talk,  —  the  son  and  mother,  —  leaning   out   above   the 

flowers. 
Is  like  lapse  of  angel-music  on  through  heaven's  enraptured  hours  ; 
Hushed  is  all  the  song  of  Nature  ;  hushed  is  care,  and  passion's  din  ; 
In  that  hush  they  hear  a  welcome  from  the  Highest,  —  "  Enter  in ! " 

"  What  new  mercy  has  befallen  ?    Every  earthly  wish  is  gone  "  ; 
Monica  half  speaks,  half  muses,  "  Why  should  earthly  life  move  on? 


MONICA   AND   AUGUSTINE.  361 

Ah,  my  son,   what  peace   and  gladness  surging   from  this  silence 

roll,  — 
*T  is  the  Eternal  Deep  that  answers  to  the  deep  within  my  soul. 

"  Not  a  sigh  of  homesick  longing  moves  the  stillness  of  my  heart. 

In  the  light  of  this  great  glory  unto  God  would  I  depart ; 

Though  more  dear  thou  art  than  ever,  standing  at  heaven's  gate  with 

me, 
For  the  sweetness  of  his  presence  I  could  say  farewell  to  thee." 

There  's  a  silent  room  in  Ostia  ;  tearless  mourners  by  a  bed  : 

Since  the  angels  roused  that  sleeper,  who  shall  weep,  or  call  her 

dead  ? 
Not  beside  the  dust  beloved  shall  her  exiled  ashes  lie ; 
But  she  knew  that  One  could  raise  her,  though  beneath  a  Roman 

sky. 

Now  Augustine  in  his  bosom  keeps  the  image  of  a  saint. 
Whose  warm  tears  of  consecration  drop  on  thoughts  of  sinful  taint ; 
In  the  home  that  knew  -him  erfing,  —  a  bewildered  Manichee,  — 
Minister  at  Truth's  high  altar,  him  that  mother-saint  shall  see. 

In  the  dreams  of  midnight,  haunted  by  the  ghosts  of  buried  sins  ; 
III  the  days  of  calm,  the  spirit  struggling  through  temptation  wins ; 
Monica  looks  down  upon  him,  joy  to  bless  and  gloom  beguile. 
And  the  world  can  see  Augustine  clearer  for  that  saintly  smile. 

Still  the  billows  from  Numidia  seek  the  lovely  Roman  shore. 
Though  Augustine  to  his  mother  sailed  long  since  the  death-wave 

o'er, 
Still  his  word  sweeps  down  the  ages  like  the  surging  of  the  sea,  — 
"  Bless    thee,  Lord,  that  we  are  restless,  till  we  find  our  rest  in 

thee ! " 


362  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 


FORMS    AND    CEREMONIES. 

THE  moment  we  begin  to  depart  from  the  simplicity  of  tlio 
word  of  God,  we  are  beginning  to  wander  from  him, 
o.nd  from  the  truth  ;  and  the  moment  we  begin  to  receive  in 
rv^ligion  the  traditions  and  commandments  of  men,  we  are  in 
danger,  and  know  not  to  what  degree  of  degradation  in  re- 
ligion we  may  be  left  to  arrive.  The  greater  part  of  the 
traditions  and  commandments  of  men  our  Puritan  fathers  re- 
jected, and  they  were  called  Puritan,  because  they  wished  to 
receive  nothing  in  religion  which  is  not  found  and  clearly 
taught  in  the  pure  Word  of  God. 

Many  of  them  were  men  of  great  talent  and  learning,  and 
of  ardent  piety.  Of  the  name  they  bore  I  am  not  ashamed, 
though  I  wish  to  take  no  other  name  than  that  of  Christian^ 
according  to  the  Word  of  God.  4nd  to  that  Word  we  owe, 
as  a  nation,  all  tlie  civil  and  religious  privileges  which  we  now 
enjoy,  —  all  our  prosperity  and  happiness  hitherto  unexampled 
in  any  other  part  bf  the  world. 

The  mixing  of  the  traditions  and  commandments  of  men 
with  the  pure  Word  of  God  by  the  Jews  was  the  primary 
cause  of  all  their  error,  and  the  consequent  misery  brought 
upon  them,  and  all  they  have  suffered  in  their  dispersion 
among  all  nations  for  eighteen  hundred  years.  And  the 
mixing  of  the  traditions  and  commandments  of  men  with 
the  pure  Word  of  God,  by  the  Christians  in  the  East,  was 
the  primary  cause  of  their  degradation  and  subjection  to  the 
Mussulman  power  for  hundreds  of  years.  And  the  degra- 
dation of  morals  among  multitudes  in  the  Western  Church, 
and  the  want  of  civil  and  religious  liberty,  may  be  justly 
attributed  to  the  same  cause.  And  in  so  far  as  we  see  tliat 
same  cause  operating  in  any  other  church,  we  have  reason  to 
fear  its  consequences  in  that  church,  and  its  influence  on 
society. 


FOflMS  AND   CEREMONIES.  363 

There  is  no  safety  for  an  individual,  nor  for  any  church, 
but  in  keeping  close  to  the  pure  Word  of  God,  and  the  sim- 
plicity of  the  Gospel  of  Jesus  Christ.  To  that  simplicity  let 
us  all  return,  if  we  have,  in  any  degree,  wandered  from  it. 
Let  us  not  be  allured  by  pompous  ceremonies  of  any  kind, 
by  gorgeous  dresses,  theatrical  performances,  or  enrapturing 
strains  of  music,  to  leave  the  simplicity  of  the  Gospel  of  Jesus 
Christ,  who,  when  he  sent  out  his  disciples  to  preach  the 
Gospel,  told  them  not  to  take  tivo  coats,  and  who  himself, 
when  he  preached  in  Judaea  and  Samaria,  and  till  he  was  led 
out  to  be  crucified,  wore,  as  we  have  reason  to  believe,  simple 
garments,  and  a  seamless  vesture,  on  which  the  Roman  soldiers 
cast  their  lots. 

Simplicity  in  rites  and  forms,  simplicity  in  religious  wor- 
ship, simplicity  in  the  places  where  they  met  for  prayer  and 
religious  instruction,  characterized  Christians  everywhere  in 
tlie  time  of  the  Apostles,  and  during  the  greater  part  of  the 
first  century  after  Christ.  And  never  did  Christianity  appear 
more  lovely,  and  never  was  the  preaching  of  the  Gospel  more 
efficacious  in  pulling  down  the  strongholds  of  sin  and  super- 
stition and  paganism,  than  during  that  period.  The  vilest  of 
men  may  be,  and  often  are,  delighted  with  pompous  rites  and 
ceremonies,  and  frequent  the  churches  where  such  rites  and 
ceremonies  exist,  as  they  do  the  theatre  and  opera,  for  mere 
amusement,  without  receiving  the  least  apparent  spiritual 
benefit. 


364  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 


DO    YOUR    BEST. 

WE  mean  you,  brother  minister,  —  you  who  are  all  the 
while  preaching  to  others.  Sit  down  and  let  us  preach 
to  you  a  moment.     "  Suffer  the  word  of  exhortation." 

Do  your  best,  then,  we  say.  Not  your  smartest,  nor  your 
profoundest,  nor  your  beautifulest,  but  your  best.  It  is  a 
rare  privilege  you  and  we  enjoy,  after  all  that  is  said  in  dis- 
paragement of  the  minister's  position  and  influence.  There 
is  a  whole  day  once  in  seven  set  apart  for  our  purposes.  God 
consecrates  the  day  and  hallows  it.  Our  people  feel  that  it 
must  not  be  given  to  ordinary  objects,  —  that  it  must  be  kept 
for  the  sanctuary.  When  that  day  comes,  other  men  are 
silent.  The  lawyer  is  quiet,  the  lecturer  is  mute,  the  politi- 
cian holds  his  peace,  but  you  and  we  may  speak.  The  people 
gather  to  hear  us.  What  a  place  is  that  in  which  they  gather ! 
The  sanctuary,  with  its  comeliness  and  comfort  and  hallowed 
associations.  The  sanctuary,  where  solemn  things  are  to  be 
said  and  done,  and  where  there  is  ever  a  solemn  presence. 
Who  has  such  a  place  to  speak  in  and  such  surroundings  as 
we  ? 

No  matter  whether  the  congregation  be  small  or  large. 
The  smallest  congregation  is  large  when  reckoned  according  to 
the  arithmetic  of  the  sanctuary.  They  have  come  to  worship, 
—  they  have  come  to  listen.  They  love  to  come.  Not  all, 
indeed,  love  God.  Not  all  love  the  Gospel.  But,  for  one 
reason  or  another,  the  great  body  of  our  hearers  love  to  come. 
See  them  as  they  sit  before  you,  still,  decorous,  attentive. 
"  We  are  all  here  present  before  God,  to  hear  all  things  that 
are  commanded  thee  of  God." 

Not  attentive,  do  you  say  ?  Not  interested  ?  Readier  to 
listen  to  the  flashy  lecturer,  to  the  mountebank  orator,  to  any- 
body or  anything  rather  than  the  Gospel  ?  Nay,  brother,  do 
not  judge  the  people  too  hardly.      Their  curiosity  may  be 


DO  YOUR   BEST.  365 

more  awake  in  looking  at  a  stranger  than  at  you,  whom  thej 
have  seen  every  Sabbath  day  for  years.  The  merest  clown  in 
fantastical  garb,  the  pedler  of  other  men's  jests,  may  amuse 
them  more,  may  awaken  more  of  that  sort  of  interest  which 
shows  itself  in  clapping  and  stamping  and  iiproarious  laugh- 
ter ;  but  it  is  a  question  if  they  like  anything  better,  as  a 
constant  matter,  than  the  preaching  of  God's  word.  That, 
after  all,  has  attractions  that  nothing  else  has.  That  goes 
to  the  heart.  That  stirs  depths  in  the  soul  which  noth- 
ing else  can  reach.  The  people  recognize  its  substantial  in- 
terest, the  grandeur  of  its  themes,  its  practical  force  and  bear- 
ing. They  recognize  these,  and  are,  for  the  time,  affected  by 
them,  whether  they  turn  them  in  all  cases  to  practical  account 
or  not.  They  are  ready  to  listen  to  them.  They  would  tire 
of  anything  else  sooner.  If  Daniel  Webster,  in  his  lifetime, 
had  come  to  discourse  upon  the  Constitution,  no  doubt  your 
church  would  have  been  fuller  than  you  ever  saw  it  before. 
But  if  even  he  had  come  a  hundred  times  a  year,  perchance 
Ids  audience  might  have  been  somewhat  reduced. 

Behold  the  people,  then,  before  you.  There  they  sit, — 
more  or  fewer,  —  every  Sabbath  day.  If  more,  you  cer- 
tainly will  not  complain  ;  if  fewer,  then  the  better  guaranty 
you  have  that  they  who  have  come  have  come  to  listen. 
There  they  sit,  your  people,  and  you  their  minister.  It  is 
yours  to  speak,  while  all  besides  keep  silent.  It  is  something 
to  have  an  opportunity  to  speak  to  your  neighbor  as  he  passes 
to  his  daily  business  ;  but  here  that  neighbor  sits,  free  from 
business  engagements,  and  says,  "  I  am  ready  to  hear  "What 
is  the  best  thing  you  can  say  to  me  ? " 

It  is  something  to  wield  a  pen.  In  some  respects,  undoubt- 
edly, the  pen  and  the  press  have  the  advantage  of  the  pul- 
pit ;  but  in  other  respects  how  greatly  the  pulpit  has  the  ad- 
vantage over  them  !  In  the  press,  it  is  your  simple  thought 
th^t  speaks ;  but  in  the  pulpit,  it  is  your  thought  incarnate, 
—  yourself.  You,  a  living,  breathing  man,  stand  where  men 
can  look  at  you,  and  hear  vou,  and  feel  the  pulsations  of  your 


866  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

heart,  and  you  speak  to  them.  With  tongue  and  lips  and 
eye  and  hand,  with  your  whole  visible  and  audible  self,  you 
speak  and  they  hear. 

This  often,  this  habitually,  this  every  Sabbath  day,  when 
yoir  people  are  most  favorably  situated  and  in  their  most 
hopeful  mood,  and  when  all  the  surroundings  are  serious  and 
impressive. 

What  an  opportunity  !  What  a  privilege  !  What  a  power 
this  which  is  put  into  your  hands  !  How  much  you  may  do 
to  direct  the  inquiries,  mould  the  views,  determine  the  char- 
acters, and  thus  the  destinies,  of  your  hearers !  May  we  not 
well  say,  —  Do  your  best ! 


NOT    A    NEW    IDEA    IN    IT! 


N* 


tired  of   such    preaching ;   it   does  n't  interest  me. 

I  'm  going  to  give  up  my  present  pew  ajid  take  one  in  E 

Street,  where  they  say  their  new  minister  gives  them  the  most 

unheard-of  sermons.      Neighbor  P ,  who  has  been  over 

there  a  month,  told  me  that  the  Rev.  Mr.  Sodawater  gave 
them  last  Sunday,  in  the  morning,  the  most  beautiful  disqui- 
sition that  you  ever  heard,  on  the  "  Music  of  the  Spheres," 
and,  in  the  afternoon,  a  most  eloquent  and  startling  discus- 
sion of  the  Chinese  and  Turkey  question,  with  some  remarks 
upon  the  Ingraham  and  Koszta  affair.  The  fact  is,  a  man 
might  go  here  ten  years,  and  never  know  that  anything  at  all 
was  going  on  in  the  world  except  sin  and  repentance  and  all 
that  old  and  worn-out  stuif.  I  am  going  to  speak  to  the 
sexton  now,  and  tell  him  to  rent  my  seats.  I  must  go  where 
something  is  stirring !  " 

Well,   good   by,   parishioner ;   you  did  n't  think   I   over- 


NOT   A   NEW  IDEA  IN  IT.  367 

heard  you,  but  no  matter.  You  and  I  have  faced  each 
other,  —  you  in  the  pew  and  I  in  the  pulpit,  —  (let  us  see) 
it  must  be  now  some  six  months.  You  came  here,  if  I  re- 
member   right,    from    Dr.    Galvanism's   church    in    B 

Street ;  and  the  reason  given  was  because  the  Doctor  de- 
voted rather  too  much  attention  to  the  spiritual-rappings, 
and  preached  too  often  upon  dry,  "  scientific  "  subjects  ;  and 
you  wanted  a  little  of  that  kind  of  Gospel  which  Jesus  used 
to  preach.  You  have  been  here  pretty  regularly  in  the 
morning,  and  in  the  afternoon  I  have  pretty  regularly  no- 
ticed you  driving  by  my  study  window  in  a  buggy-chaise 
headed  toward  the  country,  about  twenty  minutes  before  the 
ringing  of  the  second  bell.  You  have  usually  listened  to 
the  text,  especially  if  in  any  sense  unique ;  and  I  have 
known  you  to  look  up  toward  the  pulpit  with  some  intel- 
ligence in  your  eye  for  the  first  ten  minutes  of  the  discourse. 

Once,  when  the  Rev.  Mr.  Q (agent  for  the So(;iety) 

occupied  the  morning,  and  told  a  great  variety  of  stories  more 
or  less  queer,  I  did  know  you  to  keep  awake  until  the  com- 
mencement of  the  closing  appeal,  preliminary  to  the  passage 
of  the  contribution-box.  Circumstances  (other  than  those 
alluded  to  above)  have  led  me  to  the  supposition  that  you 
have  an  immortal  soul,  and  on  that  supposition  I  have 
preached  to  you.  More  than  once  I  have  prepared  a  sermon 
with  your  case  in  my  eye,  and  have  cherished  the  momentary 
hope  that  my  words  might  find  the  (difficult)  passage  from 
your  ear  to  your  heart ;  but  your  bowed  head  (not  in  prayer) 
has  soon  convinced  me  that  I  was  preaching  only  to  the  one 
hundred  and  sixty  pounds  of  flesh  and  blood  and  bones, 
with  their  linen  and  broadcloth  envelopes,  which  constitute 
by  far  the  largest  portion  of  the  complex  being  which  has 
just  stalked  off  in  indignation  from  the  door  of  my  church, 
and  which  will  be  to-morrow  accosted  upon  State  Street  as 

Mr. . 

You  have  been  afflicted  since  you  came  among  us.     I  well 
remember  your  little  daughter,  whose  sweet  face  ( lit  up  by 


368  HOUSEHOLD  BEADING. 

her  motlier's  eye  in  miniature)  was  the  light  of  your  pew, 
when  first  it  was  yours ;  and  ho"w  she  looked  when  the  fever- 
flush  was  giving  place  to  the  death-pallor  on  her  cheek,  and 
your  tears  dropped  like  rain  upon  her  little  bed  (then  it  was 
that  I  knew  you  had  a  heart);  and  how,  at  your  summons,  I 
rose  at  midnight  from  a  Sabbath  night's  overwearied  couch  to 
thread  the  streets  to  your  dwelling,  to  commit  her  departing 
soul,  in  prayer,  to  Him  whose  gentle  "  suffer  the  little  chil- 
dren to  come  unto  me  "  was  upon  both  her  lips  and  mine, 
and  to  close  her  eyes,  and  to  speak  comfort  and  warning  to 
you.  I  remember  this,  and  I  remember  my  hopes  and 
prayers  that,  by  the  avenue  of  that  sharp  grief,  conviction 
and  penitence  might  find  their  way  to  your  heart.  The 
crape  is  on  your  hat  now,  but  you  have  forgotten  these 
things ;  and  it  is  many  days  since  I  surrendered  all  hope 
that  God  would  use  me  as  the  instrument  of  making  an  im- 
pression of  eternal  value  upon  your  spirit. 

I  have  n't  preached  to  you  any  new  ideas,  it  is  true 
(though  your  slumber-steeped  brain  is  a  poor  witness)  ;  for 
I  do  not  know  of  any  new  ideas  to  be  preached  to  old  sinners 
like  yourself.  I  presume  in  the  six  months  that  you  have 
been  my  parishioner  you  have  not  eaten  or  drunken  any  new 
ideas  in  the  way  of  food,  but  that  your  daily  hunger  has  been 
satiated  and  your  daily  life  nurtured  by  such  old  ideas  as 
bread  and  beef  and  their  kindred  staples. 

I  doubt  whether  you  would  dismiss  your  baker  for  not 
putting  daily  by  your  plate  a  wheaten  loaf  with  somo  here- 
tofore unseen  substance  glittering  upon  it,  and  some  here- 
tofore unknown  taste  resident  in  it ;  or  your  butcher  for  not 
supplying  your  table  with  a  daily  joint,  the  roasting  of  which 
should  develop  some  odor  heretofore  unsmelled.  In  the 
matter  of  clothes,  too,  you  seem  to  keep  on  good  terms  with 
your  tailor,  though  I  notice  that  he  still  fits  you  with  coats 
and  pants  like  the  rest  of  the  world.  Your  body  seems  to 
get  on  reasonably  well  upon  old  ideas  newly  served  up  to  suit 
daily  wants. 


NOT   A  NEW  IDEA  IN  IT.  369 

And  as  to  your  soul,  I  know  of  no  reason  why  the  old 
facts  of  its  condition  and  necessities  and  dangers  are  not  just 
as  essential  to  its  life  now  as  ever.  And,  if  you  would  keep 
the  peace  with  your  doctor  when  he  gives  you  old  physic  for 
your  plethora,  and  old  tonics  for  your  feebleness,  I  know  not 
why  you  should  desert  and  abuse  your  spiritual  physician 
for  prescribing  according  to  his  best  skill  for  the  malady  of 
your  heart. 

No,  I  have  not  preached  about  the  "  music  of  the 
spheres,"  nor  have  I  discussed  either  "Koszta"  or  the  new 
Constitution  ;  not  because  they  have  not  an  inherent  interest, 
but  for  the  same  reason  that,  when  a  woodman  is  felling  a 
forest  of  oaks,  he  does  not  stop  to  grub  up  the  ferns  and  berry- 
bushes  that  grow  far  down  under  their  shadow.  A  man  can 
die  in  peace  without  a  matured  opinion  upon  the  Koszta  case  ; 
but  a  man  cannot  die  in  peace  without  matured  opinions  and 
acts  upon  the  great  matters  of  Christian  faith.  And  as  long 
as  men  are  dying  thick  around  us,  and  all  men  are  exposed 
to  die  at  any  moment,  the  time  has  not  come  yet  when  the 
pulpit  can  afford  to  take  a  microscope  to  find  its  subjects. 

We  are  not  to  meet  any  more  under  this  roof,  it  seems ; 
probably  —  as  your  departure  breaks  the  link  that  bound  us, 
and  your  daily  walks  are  wide  from  mine  —  we  may  never 
meet  again  in  this  world.  But,  ex-parishioner,  let  me  tell 
you,  we  shall  meet  again  in  an  august  assemblage.  And 
when  certain  books  are  opened,  there  will  be  a  reckoning  be- 
tween you  and  me  in  reference  to  our  brief  parochial  relation. 
I  must  answer  to  God  for  all  my  sermons,  —  poor,  poor 
things.  If  conscience  did  not  plead  for  them  that  they  were 
well  meant,  I  should  tremble  for  that.  And  you  must  answer 
to  him  for  your  hearing  and  your  not  hearing,  your  sleeping 
and  your  waking,  your  sins  of  omission  and  of  commission  of 
which  God's  house  has  been  the  scene. 

It  will  be  a  solemn  hour !  Very  dreadful  will  it  be  to  you, 
if  you  do  not  repent.  Yes !  if  I  could  call  so  loud  after  you 
that  you  could  catch  the  sense  of  what  I  say,  I  would  repeat 

24 


370  HOUSEHOLD  BEADING. 

those  same  ever-old,  ever-new  ideas,  "  Repent  and  be  con- 
verted, so  your  sin  shall  not  be  your  ruin."     Wake  up,  and 
prepare  for  the  hour  of  death  and  judgment. 
Until  then,  farewell ' 


IN    AFFLICTION. 

"  God  is  our  refuge  and  strength,  a  very  present  help  in  trouble." 

TT^  IS  sweet,  upon  the  bed  of  pain, 

I        When  anguish  racks  the  tortured  limb, 

To  look  to  Christ  who  once  was  slain, 
And  all  our  sorrows  cast  on  him  ; 

To  lift  the  heart  in  love  and  faith 

To  Him  who  holds  the  keys  of  death. 

'T  is  sweet  to  know  that  he  is  near, 

A  present  help  in  trouble's  hour, 
Tempted  in  all  as  we  are  here, 

Yet  proof  against  temptation's  power  : 
Our  Great  High-Priest,  whose  heart  can  feel 
Our  sorrows  which  to  him  appeal ;  — 

To  feel 't  is  he  who  makes  our  bed 
In  all  our  sickness,  —  he  who  keeps 

His  angel  watching  by  our  head ; 
Who  never  slumbers,  never  sleeps, 

But  brings  us  through  the  darkest  night, 

With  wondrous  love,  to  morning  light. 

And  when  to  us  Death  draweth  nigh, 
And  seems  to  say  our  hour  is  come, 

'T  is  sweet  to  feel,  that  Christ  on  high 
Is  fitting  up  our  endless  home  ; 

And  lift  the  heart  in  cheerful  prayer, 

Not  doubting  we  shall  soon  be  there, 


HIGH   STREET,   EDINBURGH.  .  371 


HIGH    STREET,    EDINBURGH. 

IT^DINBURGH,  which  has  become  to  all  who  speak  the 
-^  English  language,  since  the  days  of  Sir  "Walter  Scott,  one 
of  the  leading  spots  of  the  world's  interest,  has  one  long  street, 
which,  divided  into  two  sections,  and  called  by  two  different 
names,  is  the  centre  of  the  interest  of  Edinburgh.  I  speak  of 
the  famous  avenue  known  in  one  half  of  its  course  as  the 
High  Street  of  Edinburgh,  and  in  its  other  half  as  the  Canon- 
gate.  Robert  Chambers  has  beautifully  said  of  it :  "  As  the 
main  avenue  from  Holyrood  into  the  city,  it  has  borne  upon 
its  pavement  the  burden  of  all  that  was  beautiful,  all  that  was 
gallant,  all  that  has  become  historically  interesting  in  Scot- 
land for  the  last  six  or  seven  hundred  years."  I  confess  I 
never  have  seen  any  street  which  is  so  crowded  with  memo- 
rials of  the  past  like  this  one.  It  lies  on  the  ridge  of  a  hill, 
which  is  not  conical  as  a  hill  ought  to  be,  but  which  extends 
a  mile  in  length,  rising  like  a  camel's  back.  The  two  sides 
of  it  are  quite  steep,  and  one  end  is  precipitous,  and  there  at 
that  end  stands  frowning  the  old  and  the  famous  Edinburgh 
Castle.  From  this  crowning  point  runs  the  long  street  of 
which  I  write,  ever  descending  with  a  gradual  slope  till  it 
reaches  the  plain  a  mile  away,  and  confronts  at  its  opening 
the  still  more  famous  Holyrood  Palace.  This  street  is  the 
heart  of  the  old  town  of  Edinburgh.  In  it  stand  all,  or  nearly 
all,  the  buildings  known  to  fame  ;  and  the  High  Street  and  the 
Canongate  have  witnessed  nearly  all  that  is  sad  and  thrilling 
in  the  public  history  of  Scotland. 

Not  the  least  interesting  feature  is  the  houses  themselves, 
and  they  would  be  interesting,  even  without  the  historical 
associations  which  hang  around.  Palaces  they  were  a  hun- 
dred years  ago  ;  now  they  seem  like  tall  houses,  standing  like 
a  guard  of  grim  giants  guarding  the  way.  Edinburgh  has 
the  highest  houses  of  any  city  in  the  world,  and  it  is  not  un- 


372  ,  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

common  to  ooiint  from  seven  to  ten  stories  in  those  houses 
which  are  built  on  the  sides  of  that  hill  whose  long  ridge  is 
formed  by  the  High  Street  and  the  Canongate.  As  one  stands 
on  the  plateau  of  the  new  town  and  looks  up,  these  tall  houses 
seem  like  a  band  of  giants  trying  to  scale  the  hill,  and  as  you 
walk  down  the  Canongate,  you  meet  the  same  giants  keeping 
guard.  The  houses,  too,  have  a  most  impressive  air  of  antiq- 
uity. The  small  windows,  the  curiously  cornered  roofs,  the 
projecting  upper  stories,  the  old  English  mottoes,  the  antique 
signs,  the  grimness  and  blackness  of  age,  the  stone  staircases, 
either  outside  of  the  buildings  or  winding  up  into  them  like 
the  stairs  of  an  old  ruin,  —  all  these  things  bring  back  the  past 
most  vividly.  And  then  the  people  who  live  there  are  of  that 
class  whose  manners  and  habits  do  not  much  change  from 
generation  to  generation.  The  rich  follow  new  fashions; 
and  their  life  is  ever  spent  in  seeking  new  novelties.  But  the 
poor  of  an  old  European  town  have  no  money  to  throw  away 
on  novelties  ;  they  are  independent  of  the  fashions,  because 
they  have  not  the  means  to  follow  them;  as  their  fathers 
dressed  and  lived,  so  dress  and  live  the  children.  So  when  I 
look  at  the  men  and  women  of  the  swarming  population  of 
the  Canongate,  I  feel  that  the  past  is  before  me,  that  I  now 
see  those  whom  Scott  has  painted ;  and  if  a  few  changes  in 
dress  have  been  made,  yet  that,  in  all  the  great  features  of  the 
scene,  these  are  the  men  and  women  who  are  so  interesting, 
or  "  quaint,"  as  we  say  in  history. 

And  the  High  Street  and  Canongate  are  alway  so  swarmed 
with  this  old-fashioned  life  that  it  brings  out  still  more 
strongly  the  impression.  I  hardly  ever  pass  up  the  street 
without  seeing,  in  the  tide  of  low,  ragged  life  there,  the  self- 
same Porteus  mob  which  Scott  has  so  vividly  painted  in  the 
Heart  of  Mid-Lothian.  For  the  Canongate,  once  the  residence 
of  the  titled,  is  now  wholly  deserted  by  this  class,  and  is  in- 
habited by  the  lowest  classes  of  the  population.  From  the 
street  lead  narrow  lanes,  about  ten  feet  wide,  and  called 
closes,  and  they  were  once  filled  wi^^h  the  mansions  of  men 


HIGH   STREET,   EDINBURGH.  378 

whose  names  are  conspicuous  in  the  history  of  Scotland.  But 
now  those  closes  are  the  abodes  of  filth  and  wretchedness ; 
and  the  guide-book  remarks,  with  a  sly  humor  which  I  did  not 
appreciate  till  I  had  visited  them,  that  the  tourist  must  visit 
the  closes  of  Edinburgh,  "  if  he  wishes  to  witness  the  change, 
of  a  century  in  the  manners  and  customs  of  society."  From 
the  windows  of  palaces  where  once  dwelt  dukes  and  earls 
you  may  now  see  every  day  of  the  week  a  pole  five  feet  long, 
with  two  or  three  strings  attached  to  the  end,  and  fastened  at 
the  sides  of  the  window,  while  from  the  stick  and  the  strings 
hang  the  week's  washing,  the  suds  dripping  upon  the  passers 
below.  Nor  is  this  scene  confined  to  the  narrow  closes  alone  ; 
but  from  all  the  windows  of  the  Canongate  the  same  sight  is 
seen.  One  must  make  his  excursions  into  this  street  on  one 
of  the  last  days  of  the  week,  or  else  walk  in  the  middle  of  the 
street. 

It  would  be  almost  impossible  to  do  justice  in  a  single 
letter  to  the  many  interesting  memorials  of  the  High  Street 
and  the  Canongate.  Beginning  at  the  Castle,  you  have  in  it 
an  object  on  which  the  eye  loves  to  linger,  and  in  which  are 
choice  objects  of  interest.  How  grandly  that  old  Castle  lifts 
itself  to  the  skies.  Seven,  even  forty  miles  away,  it  seems  to 
be  the  presiding  genius  of  Edinburgh  ;  and  such  indeed  it  has 
always  been  ;  and  these  tall  houses  have  grown  up  around  it, 
that  many  people  might  be  securely  sheltered  under  its  pro- 
tection. The  long  hill  of  the  High  Street  comes  to  an  abrupt 
termination  with  the  Castle,  and  so  there  it  stands  on  a  bold 
mass  of  rock  two  hundred  and  fifty  feet  high,  telling  so  many 
stories  of  the  warlike  history  of  Scotland.  That  Castle,  which 
runs  back  before  the  time  of  authentic  history,  has  wit- 
nessed all  the  development  of  Scottish  glory,  has  been  be- 
sieged and  ruined  and  restored,  has  been  scaled  by  Wallace, 
has  given  the  unfortunate  Mary  a  prison-room, — alas!  it  only 
competes  with  the  Tower  of  London  in  the  sad  sights,  too, 
which  it  has  witnessed.  In  the  Castle,  too,  are  kept  the  re- 
galia of  Scotland,  interesting  in  itself  as  the  c;'own  of  Bruce, 


874  HOUSEHOLD   READING. 

the  swoi  d  of  state  must  be,  but  made  more  interesting  from 
the  fact  that  during  the  whole  civil  wars  it  was  hidden,  and 
it  was  thought  lost,  till  about  1816,  long  after  quiet  was  re- 
stored, it  was  discovered  hidden  in  a  strong  oak  box  carefully 
laid  away  by  some  strict  loyalist  then  in  the  grave.  And 
there  are  the  rooms  in  which  Mary  was  imprisoned,  —  most 
interesting  both.  They  are  little  changed  from  what  they 
were  ;  the  old  and  rich  wood-panelling  remains  ;  so,  too,  the 
inscriptions  on  the  walls,  and  the  little  marks  of  Mary's  taste. 
In  the  smaller  room,  James  the  Sixth  of  Scotland,  and  First 
of  England,  was  born  ;  and  from  the  window  of  this  room  was 
let  down,  a  height  of  two  hundred  and  fifty  feet,  in  a  basket, 
when  he  was  but  eight  days  old.  A  picture  of  Mary  hangs 
upon  the  wall,  —  a  noted  picture,  which  has  come  down  from 
her  times,  and  is  considered  one  of  the  best  portraits  of  her 
in  existence.  And  certainly,  however  high  I  may  have 
thought  Mary's  beauty  was,  I  have  never  rated  it  so  high  as 
this  picture  would  indicate.  The  face  is  square,  as  the  com- 
mon pictures  of  Mary  represent,  and  not  oval,  as  the  statue  at 
Westminster  Abbey  gives  you  to  infer ;  the  nose  is  straight, 
and  not  Jewish,  as  is  too  often  represented.  But  the  eye,  the 
hair,  the  complexion,  the  brightness  and  animation  of  face, 
—  all  these  are  so  attractively  represented,  and  the  dress 
withal  has  such  a  modern  air,  not  distracting  your  attention 
with  any  absurd  exaggerations  of  lace,  that  I  was  lost  in  ad- 
miration, no  longer  wondering  that  much  trouble  should 
have  been  brought  into  the  world  by  one  who  was  thus 
beautiful. 

"  If  to  her  lot  some  human  errors  fall, 
Look  on  her  face  and  you  'U  forget  them  alL" 


"A  LAUGHING-STOCK."  375 


/'A    LAUGHING-STOCK." 

HE  was  a  good  man,  that  Deacon  L .  I  knew  him 
well.  He  was  my  kindred  and  my  friend.  I  met 
him  often  for  many  years.  He  stood  over  six  feet  high,  and 
was  proportionally  large  ;  a  farmer,  "  well  to  do,"  always 
moral  and  upright.  When  about  forty  years  old,  he  became 
deeply  interested  in  personal  religion.  Naturally  very,  very 
diffident,  he  said  little  or  nothing  to  any  one  about  his  feel- 
ings. Months  rolled  on,  and  still  he  was  anxious,  dis- 
tressed ;  while  yet  he  had  regular  seasons  of  secret  prayer, 
read  his  Bible,  and  was  doing  all  he  felt  he  could  and  ought 
to  do,  save  one  thing.  He  was  the  head  of  a  family.  He  had 
a  lovely  wife  and  four  children,  all  impenitent,  but  they  were 
his,  and  conscience  urged  him  to  the  duty  of  erecting  the 
family  altar.  But  the  cross,  0  it  was  too  great  for  his 
timidity  !  So  it  was  put  off,  and  new  duties  discharged  in 
other  directions  as  an  offset ;  but  he  grew  nothing  the  better, 
nay,  rather  the  worse.  At  length,  one  morning,  in  his  field 
he  solemnly  resolved  that  that  night  he  would,  come  what 
might,  make  the  attempt  at  least  to  pray  in  his  family.  A 
seamstress  was  at  his  house,  from  whose  ridicule  and  scorn 
he  shrank ;  but  his  mind  was  made  up.  And  here  I  give 
his  own  language.  "  When  I  went  to  dinner  she  told 
me  she  wished  to  go  home  that  afternoon.  Never  did  I 
carry  a  person  from  my  house  so  gladly  before.  She  was 
now  out  of  my  way,  and  one  great  obstacle  was  removed. 
Night  came  on,  and  I  seemed  to  gain  strength  for  my  duty. 
But  just  as  I  was  about  to  get  my  Bible  and  tell  my 
family  what  I  intended  then  and  thereafter  to  do,  who 
should  knock  at  my  door  but  the  youngest  brother  of  my 
wife,  a  mirth-loving,  captious  young  man,  a  member  of  col- 
lege, just  the  last  person  in  the  world  I  then  wanted  to  see. 
What  shall  I  do  ?   what  ?   what  ?  my  heart  cried,  and  my 


376  HOUSEHOLD   READING. 

agony  seemed  to  me  more  than  I  could  bear.  But  my  vow 
had  been  made,  and  there  could  be  no  gomg  back.  I  arose, 
got  my  Bible,  and  told  them  what  I  was  about  to  do.  My 
wife  looked  as  though  she  would  sink.  My  children  looked 
one  to  another,  at  their  mother  and  at  me,  not  knowing 
what  was  to  happen.  My  brother-in-law  seemed  greatly 
amazed.  But  rallying  all  my  strength  I  read  a  Psalm,  and 
knelt  down,  and  at  length  said,  "  0  Lord," —  and  could 
not  utter  another  word  ;  and  there  I  stood,  a  great  stout 
man,  upon  my  knees,  a  laughing-stoch  for  my  dear  family. 
There  I  stood,  I  could  not  speak,  and  there  my  proud  heart 
was  humbled,  and  there  my  Heavenly  Father  met  me,  and 
my  soul  was  filled  with  unutterable  peace.  When  I  arose, 
my  poor  wife  was  mortified,  and  hung  her  head  to  conceal 
it.  My  brother-in-law  said  nothing,  soon  retired,  and  the 
next  morning  left  for  college  again." 

That  family  altar  has  not  yet  ceased  to  burn  with  daily 
incense,  though  the  priest  thereof  has  ministered  unto  it 
for  forty  odd  years. 

Now  mark  the  result  of  that  attempt  at  prayer,  when  the 
good  man  was,  in  his  own  esteem,  a  "  laughing-stock."  In 
about  a  week  he  received  a  letter  from  that  brother-in-law 
student,  which  began  with  these  words,  "  Rejoice  with  me, 
Brother  Daniel,  for  I  have  found  the  Saviour,  and  that  scene 
at  your  house  the  other  evening  God  has  blessed  to  the  sal- 
vation of  my  soul."  This  young  man  studied  divinity  at 
^ndover,  but  when  about  to  be  licensed  to  preach  the  Gos- 
pel, was  taken  with  bleeding  at  the  lungs,  and  soon  went  to 
his  rest.  That  wife,  those  children,  and  many  others  under 
the  same  roof,  have  found  the  Saviour  through  the  instru- 
mentality of  this  praying  man.  He  bore  the  cross  and  re- 
ceived the  crown.  He  lives  still  in  a  green  old  age,  waiting 
for  his  summons  to  go  up  higher. 

Be  sure  it  is  always  best  to  obey  God  ?  Nothing  is  gained, 
but  much  lost,  by  shrinking  from  duty.  They  are  difficulties, 
overcome  and  conquered,  upon  which  we  rise.     T\ie  Christian 


FICKLE   PIETY.  377 

is  a  soldier.  He  must  not  fear  when  executing  a  command. 
The  anxious  lose,  —  0  how  much  they  lose  !  sometimes  the 
immortal  soul,  —  by  failing  to  do  the  right  thing,  that  om 
thing,  to  which  God  evidently  calls.  Many  a  head  of  a 
family  has  stumbled  at  the  cross  of  family  prayer,  and  lost 
all.  What  though  for  once,  or  a  hundred  times,  he  may  be 
a  "  laughing-stock !  "  It  matters  nothing,  when  such  inter- 
ests are  in  peril.  The  care  of  the  soul  is  the  great  care. 
Who  can,  or  will,  neglect  it  ? 


FICKLE    PIETY. 


WHY  is  there  so  much  defective  piety  in  the  Church  ? 
We  imagine  one  reason  is  a  sad,  practical  mistake  in 
the  proportioning  of  faith  and  works. 

A  person,  for  example,  opens  his  Bible,  and  reads  there  of 
the  incomparable  beauty  of  religion,  as  consisting  in  that 
charity  without  which  we  are  nothing.  He  finds  that  it  is  a 
heart  free  from  sin,  and  a  life  radiant  with  love  and  well- 
doing, that  God  approves  ;  that  it  is  pure  religion  and  unde- 
filed  to  wipe  away  the  orphan's  tears,  to  soothe  the  sorrows 
of  the  tried  and  the  oppressed,  and  to  keep  one's  self  unspot- 
ted from  the  world.  He  pictures  in  his  own  mind  such  an 
angelic  character  walking  the  earth  like  a  form  of  pure  and 
radiant  light,  itself  uncontamiuated  with  the  contact,  cheer- 
ing and  blessing  all  around  as  it  moves  on  through  the  world, 
until,  at  the  end  of  life,  it  goes  out  to  us  like  the  setting  sun, 
only  to  burst  forth  with  a  new  and  clearer  effulgence  in  the 
eternal  world,  shining  there  as  "  the  brightness  of  the  firma- 
ment," and  "  the  stars  for  ever  and  ever."  "  That,"  he  ex- 
claims, "  is  my  idea  of  true  religion."  And  then,  perhaps, 
he  honestly  resolves  to  be  religious.  He  sets  himself  strenu- 
ously to  the  work.     He  will  restrain  every  s\a"ong  passion; 


878  HOUSEHOLD   READING. 

he  will  put  down  every  sinful  thought  and  feeling ;  he  wih 
kill  out  the  rank  selfishness  of  his  nature ;  he  will  nurture 
every  angelic  grace ;  in  short,  he  will  at  once  commence, 
step  by  step,  the  ascent ;  so,  step  by  step,  he  will  ascend  to 
that  heavenly  character  which  God  loves,  and  which  will 
secure  to  him  the  rewards  of  the  righteous.  Reaching  the 
summit  of  the  first  mountain  of  attainment,  he  finds  that 
another  still  rises  before  him,  seemingly,  now  that  he  is 
nearer  to  it,  piercing  the  very  skies.  Nothing  daunted,  he 
girds  himself  afresh  for  the  work,  and  at  last  makes  the  as- 
cent. But  what  is  his  dismay  to  find  that  still  moiintain  rises 
on  mountain,  stretching  away  into  the  interminable  distance, 
and  he  knows  not  that,  e\-en  at  that  farthest  visible  point,  he 
should  reach  the  full  height  of  the  requirements  of  God,  and 
be  perfect  even  as  he  is  perfect.  Looking  back,  and  looking 
forward,  he  seems  to  himself  to  have  made  no  advance  at  all, 
and  so,  at  the  very  beginning  of  this  stupendous  ascent,  he 
falls  back  panting  and  discouraged. 

Again  he  opens  his  Bible,  and,  to  his  surprise,  finds  that  he 
has  heretofore  omitted,  or  at  least  passed  thoughtlessly  over, 
a  very  large  class  of  texts,  which  all  seem  to  point  in  one 
direction,  and,  as  it  now  appears  to  him,  a  very  different  one 
from  that  which  he  has  been  pursuing.  He  finds  them  on 
almost  every  page,  interwoven  with  nearly  every  narrative, 
hardly  ever  omitted  in  the  parables  of  the  Saviour,  never  ab- 
sent from  the  sermons  and  letters  of  the  Apostles.  Wearied 
by  his  ineffectual  efforts  to  scale  the  heights  of  the  divine 
law,  and  to  make  himself  an  angel  by  the  loveliness  and 
beauty  of  his  own  obedience,  he  reads  such  passages  as  these : 
"  Come  unto  me,  all  ye  that  labor  and  are  heavy  laden,  and  I 
will  give  you  rest "  ;  "  By  grace  are  ye  saved,  through  faith  ; 
and  that  not  of  yourselves,  it  is  the  gift  of  God  ;  not  of 
works."  These,  and  such  as  these,  he  reads,  and  wonders 
that  they  have  never  attracted  his  attention  before.  So,  then, 
all  his  laborious  painstakings  to  reach  the  heights  of  the 
divine  requirements,  and  become  pure  and  holy  by  his  own 


FICKLE   PIETY.  379 

obedience,  have  been  in  vain.  The  only  way  to  please  God, 
and  attain  unto  everlasting  life,  it  seems,  is  to  trust  Jesus 
Christ,  the  Son  of  God,  who  ijroposes,  through  the  great  and 
mysterious  sacrifice  of  himself  for  me,  to  place  me  at  once, 
where  of  my  own  efforts  I  never  can  get,  on  a  vantage-ground 
equivalent  to  that  of  perfect  obedience,  so  that  thus  I  may  be 
accepted  of  God,  and  admitted  to  the  eternal  glories  of  his 
presence.  He  proposes  this  as  a  strictly  free  gift,  offered  to 
my  acceptance,  purchased  for  me  at  a  price  which  no  created 
intelligence  will  ever  be  able  to  estimate  ;  and  the  only  con- 
dition he  annexes  is  my  repentance  for  sin,  and  my  grateful 
and  affectionate  trust  in  him. 

Now,  in  the  case  of  such  a  great  reaction  in  the  religious 
experience  of  a  person,  possibly  he  may  entirely  forget,  or  at 
least  act  as  if  he  had  forgotten,  that  first  class  of  passages, 
which  are  equally  true  with  the  last,  and  which  so  entranced 
him  with  the  sweetness  of  religion,  as  consisting  in  a  pure 
and  benevolent  life.  He  has  forgotten  the  beauty  of  that 
personal  holiness,  without  which  no  man  shall  see  the  Lord, 
and  the  pure  and  cheerful  radiance  of  that  charity  which  is 
to  live  and  sing  when  faith  and  hope  are  dead.  He  is  simply 
to  believe  in  Jesus,  he  now  thinks ;  there  is  no  other  duty  to 
perform,  no  other  command  to  obey.  He  is  to  be  saved,  not 
by  works,  but  by  trusting  Christ,  and  (fatal  inference,  secretly 
drawn)  consequently  he  thinks  it  can  make  no  great  differ- 
ence what  life  he  lives  or  what  spirit  he  breathes.  And  so 
he  sinks  down  into  a  cold,  heartless,  dead  piety,  immovable, 
useless,  a  mere  profession,  the  very  negation  of  all  religion^ 
his  heart  full  of  worldliness  and  covetousness  and  bigotry, 
his  life  following  its  impulses,  and  himself  a  burden  upon  the 
Church  ;  until,  finally,  startled  by  some  fearful  providence  of 
God,  or  some  great  awakening  of  religious  interest  in  the 
community,  or  by  some  dread  truth  of  God's  word  flashed 
upon  his  mind,  he  wakes  up  from  his  long  death-like  stupor, 
and  under  the  lashings  of  remorse  and  fear  for  his  remissness 
and  ungodliness,  and  satisfied  that  he  has  not  ever  yet  been 


380  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

upon  the  right  ground,  very  likely  again  attempts  to  answer 
all  the  requirements  of  God  by  his  zeal  in  well-doing,  —  a 
zeal  which  he  thinks  will  never  again  languish,  but  which,  in 
reality,  burns  for  a  while,  only  to  go  out  as  before. 

And  thus  he  oscillates  between  these  two  extremes,  like  a 
pendulum,  finding  rest  nowhere,  never  dreaming  that  the 
only  place  of  rest  possible  to  him  is  that  very  medium  point, 
so  often  passed  over  in  his  vibrations,  where  the  two  extremes 
harmoniously  meet  and  combine,  where  faith  takes  hold  of 
life,  and  life  takes  hold  of  faith,  where  life  becomes  a  life  of 
faith,  and  faith  becomes  faith  in  life,  each  necessary  to  the 
very  existence  of  the  other,  both  together  securing  at  once 
remission  of  sin  and  personal  holiness,  and  the  two,  like  angel 
wings,  neither  of  wliich  can  be  spared,  bearing  the  soul  up  to 
the  bosom  of  God. 


THE    LITTLE    TEACHER. 

HER  IDEAL   SCHOOL. 

"  1%/r OTHER  did  say  yes,  and  now  she  can't  help  it.     0, 

■i-T-JL  I  'm  so  glad  the  school  is  fairly  engaged,  that  I  'm 
half  crazy ! " 

"  Crazy,"  said  Miss  Paddleford,  peeping  over  her  spectacles ; 
"  I  think  myself  there  's  been  a  degree  of  partial  insanity  about 
you  for  some  time.  Here  's  your  little  sister  just  got  over  a 
fatal  sickness,  and  your  mother  never  needed  you  so  much 
in  the  world  ;  and  you  must  go  off  in  spite  of  all  she  can  say, 
and  keep  school !  " 

"  But,  Miss  Paddleford,  father  is  willing !  " 

"  0  yes,  your  father  'd  let  you  do  anything  under  the 
sun.  Just  got  your  dresses  let  down  !  Thirteen  years  old. 
It  beats  all !  " 


^  THE   LITTLE   TEACHEE.  381 

"  0,  I  'm  fourteen,  Miss  Paddleford,  and  three  months 
over,  and  very  large  for  my  age !  " 

"  Well,  well,  it  's  ridiculous.  You  've  about  as  much  no- 
tion of  governing  a  school  as  a  baby !  As  soon  as  a  girl  is 
old  enough  to  write  a  palatable  hand  now-a-days,  she  thinks 
she  must  keep  school !  " 

And  Miss  Paddleford  went  on  pressing  the  seams  in  Willy's 
pants,  and  her  goose  seemed  to  hiss  out  scorn  of  Rose  and  all 
little  girls  who  tliought  they  could  keep  school  before  their 
time  had  come. 

"  Well,  Miss  Paddleford,"  said  Rose,  saucily,  "  if  I  ever 
have  to  earn  my  own  living,  I  'd  rather  be  a  teacher  than  a 
tailoress,  anyhow !  It 's  a  good  deal  more  genteel !  Board- 
ing 'round,  too  !  I  shall  have  the  best  chamber,  and  live  on 
strawberries  and  cream,  and  be  just  as  dignified.  I  've  made 
up  my  mind  to  be  dignified !  " 

"  Have  you  ?  "  cried  Will,  who  was  going  by  the  window. 
"  Begin  now,  and  let 's  see  how  you  '11  look  !  " 

"  Behave,  Will ;  I  was  n't  talking  to  you.  You  say  that 
just  because  I  have  my  hair  curled  in  my  neck,  I  suppose. 
But  I  can  be  prim  enough,  I  'd  have  you  know !  " 

"  A  perfect  primrose,"  said  Will,  drawing  down  his  mouth. 
"  I  'm  thankful  I  don't  belong  at  Getchell's  Corner,  Deestrict 
No.  3 ;  '  the  terror  of  your  noble  eye  would  strike  me 
dead.'  " 

"  You  saucy  thing !  I  'd  strike  you  with  something  heavi 
er  than  my  eye,  I  guess.  Should  n't  I  enjoy  punishing  you 
for  impertinence  on  the  old  score  ?  If  I  only  once  got  hold 
of  you ! " 

And  Rose  drew  herself  up,  and  assumed  the  attitude  of 
Miss  Lyon,  her  favorite  teacher,  whose  deportment  she  in. 
tended  to  imitate  whenever  she  could  think  of  it. 

Will  thrust  his  hands  into  his  pockets  and  laughed ;  leaned 
against  the  fence  to  laugh  harder  still. 

"  I  '11  tell  you  what  it  is,  Rose  ;  if  you  can  catch  me  you 
may  give  me  a  smart  flogging,  and  welcome.     Now  for  a  race 


382  HOUSEHOLD   READING. 

from  here  to  the  sweet-apple-tree.  One,  two,  three,  —  be- 
gin!  " 

And  Will  started  off  at  the  top  of  his  speed,  and  Rose  after 
him  in  close  pursuit,  her  face  aglow,  and  her  hair  streaming 
in  the  wind.  As  she  skimmed  over  the  ground,  shouting  and 
laughing,  she  seemed  for  all  the  world  like  a  little  girl,  and 
not  in  the  least  like  a  young  ladj.  Or  at  any  rate,  so  thought 
her  mother,  who  was  standing  at  the  pantry  window  watching 
the  chase. 

"  "Well,  well,"  thought  mamma,  as  she  finished  rolling  out 
her  biscuits,  "  the  child  is  determined  to  teach  school,  and 
perhaps  it 's  all  for  the  best.  I  can't  help  hoping  she  '11  be 
better  contented  afterwards  to  stay  at  home  and  help  me." 

HER  REAL   SCHOOL. 

There  were  bits  of  paper,  dry  leaves,  and  sticks  lying  about 
under  the  seats  and  in  the  corners,  undiscovered  by  the  girls' 
brooms.  The  curtains  were  tearing  away  from  the  gentle 
clasp  of  the  tack-nails,  and  leaned  over  from  the  tops  of  the 
windows  as  if  they  were  tired  of  the  sun  themselves,  and 
wanted  a  little  rest. 

Rose  wanted  a  little  rest,  poor  child !  School  was  out  for 
the  day,  and  she  sat  by  her  desk  scribbling  in  a  blank-book 
because  she  wanted  to  "  free  her  mind,"  and  had  no  one  to 
talk  with.  I  have  seen  that  blank-book,  and  have  a  mind  to 
give  you  a  peep  at  it.  It  is  written  sometimes  with  black  ink, 
sometimes  in  blue,  and  then  again  with  a  lead-pencil.  It  is 
blotted,  too,  —  with  tears. 

"  Monday  night.  —  First  day  over.  Seems  like  a  week.  It 
is  n't  a  bit  as  I  expected.  I  jumped  once  or  twice  when 
they  said,  '  Miss  Lawrence.'  (It  sounds  dignified,  though  !  ) 
How  the  children  do  stare !  I  wonder  how  they  like  my 
looks.  They  '11  go  home  and  tell  their  mothers  f.^rnie  kind  of 
a  story!  I  know  one  thing, — I've  looke'l  as  grave  as  a 
tombstone.     I  suppose  it  would  n't  do  to  smib.     I  nearly 


THE  LITTLE   TEACHER.  383 

smiled,  though,  when  those  little  girls  came  out  to  read  their 
letters.  I  pointed  to  '  T,'  and  asked  the  pretty  one  what  she 
drank  out  of  cups  sometimes.  She  looked  sober  and  said, 
'  Nothing.  They  don't  give  me  anything  but  cold  water  in  a 
pint ! ' 

"Then  I  asked  the  other  one,  and  she  said,  '  My  mother 
has  grounds  in  her  coffee  sometimes,  but  it  does  n't  look  like 
that ! ' 

"  0  dear,  it  was  so  funny !  I  wanted  to  kiss  the  little 
darlings,  and  send  them  out  to  pick  buttercups.  But  no  !  I 
had  to  make  them  take  their  seats  and  fold  their  hands.  The 
pretty  one  nodded,  and  finally  lost  herself,  —  not  much  of  a 
loss,  poor  dear ! 

"  There  !  how  strict  I  am  going  to  be,  and  yet  they  will  all 
love  me.  And  when  the  School  Reports  are  printed.  Dis- 
trict No.  3  will  go  before  the  rest,  perhaps. 

"  I  'm  afraid  the  other  teachers  in  this  town  will  feel  morti- 
fied, —  so  young  as  I  am,  and  my  first  school.  But  I  sha'n't 
feel  like  rejoicing  over  them ;  I  know  I  sha'n't. 

"  Will  may  treat  me  more  respectfully,  though,  and  I  shall 
be  glad  of  that.  It  is  certainly  provoking  the  way  he  talks 
to  me,  as  if  I  were  a  child !  " 

^^ Friday. — Those  three '  Committee-men ' !  They  have  been 
in  !  I  had  to  hold  on  by  the  chair,  I  shook  so  !  I  wished  I 
was  dead  and  buried,  and  the  grass  was  a  foot  high  over  my 
grave,  for  a  few  minutes. 

"  Don't  know  what  they  thought.  I  can't  even  remember 
what  they  said.  My  tongue  felt  as  if  it  had  been  changed 
into  something  as  stiff  as  leather.  I  had  no  idea  I  could 
speak  with  my  tongue  feeling  so,  and  my  throat  having  such 
a  lump  in  it ;  but  I  did,  and  they,  the  men,  did  not  look  at 
each  other  and  smile,  as  I  expected  they  would.  I  guess  I 
appeared  very  brave.  They  gave  me  enough  good  advice  to 
last  me  if  I  should  live  a  hundred  years.  They  will  come  in, 
the  last  week,  again." 


384  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

"  Thursday.  —  Why,  liow  these  children  do  act !  I  scold  as 
hard  as  ever  I  can,  but  they  don't  seem  to  mind  much  about 
it.  I  wonder  if  they  mistrust  I  'm  only  fourteen  years  old  ? 
They  keep  running  out  of  their  seats  with  questions.  I  sup- 
pose I  ought  not  to  let  'em. 

"  It  's  '  Miss  Lawrence,  need  Nancy  tickle  me  ? ' 

"  '  Miss  Lawrence,  I  was  just  lying  down  on  the  seat,  and 
Tid  Glover  spilt  some  ink  on  my  neck.  She  says  she  did  n't 
go  to  do  it,  but  she  did.' 

"  '  0  Miss  Lawrence,  may  n't  I  speak  ?  I  want  to  get  the 
tink  up,  —  it 's  under  Johnny's  dinner-basket.' 

"  0  dear  me  —  there  !  I  wish  I  was  at  home,  out  in  the 
orchard,  under  the  trees,  and  could  hear  mother  call  me  in 
to  supper,  —  '  Rose,  Ro-ose,  Ro-osa  ! ' 

"  Mrs.  Applebee  sweetens  her  custards  with  molasses,  — 
who  ever  heard  of  such  a  thing  ?  Coffee,  do.  (bread,  dougK). 
Mother  never  made  me  eat  fried  pork  at  home,  and  because 
I  don't  like  it  they  think  I  'm  '  big-feeling,  stuck-up,  and 
proud.' 

"  Mrs.  Applebee  is  n't  like  Mrs.  Glover,  where  I  boarded 
at  first.  She  petted  me,  but  Mrs.  Applebee  thinks  I  ought  to 
be  a  woman,  I  suppose.  She  said  something  about  letting  me 
have  a  tub  to  wash  my  clothes.  Perhaps  she  thinks  I  can 
wash  !  I  '11  make  believe,  then  (it  will  take  the  skin  off  my 
fingers,  though)." 

^^My  last  week  !  Monday.  —  I  'm  boarding  now  ever  so  far 
from  the  school-house,  and  it  has  rained  almost  every  day  for 
a  fortnight.  The  clouds  seem  to  be  let  loose.  I  wish  they 
had  some  kind  of  check-rain. 

"  I  've  kept  a  boy  after  school,  and  have  got  to  whip  him  if 
I  can  get  up  the  courage.  Then  I  shall  go  paddling  through 
the  mud  to  Mrs.  Johnnet's,  and  hear  her  scold,  scold.  I 
don't  like  boarding  round.  I  hate  teaching  school,  —  now 
it 's  out ! 

'  Needles  and  pins  !  needles  and  pins,  — 
When  a  girl  teaches  her  trouble  begins  !  * 


THE   LITTLE   TEACHER.  885 

"  I  only  want  to  live  througli  this  week,  so  I  shall  be 
alive  next  week !  Then  the  cage  will  open  and  I  shall  fly 
out." 

*'  Tuesday.  — Worse  and  worse.  Then  I  'm  so  homesick,  if 
I  must  own  it.  I  've  cried  myself  to  sleep  ever  so  many 
nights.  I  want  to  see  mother.  I  don't  think  I  used  to  treat 
mother  just  right,  I  always  hated  to  wash  dishes  so.  But  if  I 
once  get  home,  I  '11  go  to  work,  the  first  thing,  and  wash  all 
the  dishes  in  the  house,  clean  ones  and  all.  I  miss  father 
and  Ada,  and  I  know  Will  misses  me.  Will 's  a  good-hearted 
boy,  after  all." 

^^Last  day  !  The  Committee  !  —  Dr.  Palmer  is  the  one  that 
makes  sucli  long  sentences,  with  so  much  dictionary  sprinkled 
over  them.  And  he  is  the  one  I  think  is  heartless.  He  al- 
ways looks  as  if  he  thought  you  were  very  much  to  blame 
about  something.  He  made  a  speech  about  '  order,'  and 
'  regulations,'  and  '  system,'  and  '  discipline,'  and  I  don't 
know  what  all,  for  I  had  as  much  as  J  could  do  to  keep  from 
crying.  I  wonder  if  he  has  got  any  daugliters  about  my 
age  ?  I  know  one  thing,  he  never  will  let  them  keep  school ! 
Well,  father  told  me  I  was  a  silly  child  to  attempt  to  govern 
'  other  children.'  I  begin  to  think  one's  father  and  mother 
know  best,  I  wonder  if  the  other  teachers  in  town  will  be 
jealous  of  little  Rose  Lawrence, — '  the  Rose  that  all  are  prais- 
ing '  !  Well,  little  miss,  you  won't  keep  school  agahi  till  you 
reach  the  years  of  discretion.  If  you  do,  I  hope  some  kind 
friend  will  just  take  you  and  use  you  for  a  pincushion." 


as 


H8S  HOUSEHOLD   READING. 


THE    PRAYER-MEETING. 

A  WEEKLY  prayer-meeting  is  something  which  no 
church  can  well  afford  to  do  without.  It  might 
about  as  well  dispense  with  its  family  altars,  its  closets,  its 
places  of  Sabbath  worship,  and,  I  had  almost  said,  its  Bibles. 
And  there  are  the  best  reasons  for  believing,  that,  if  a  church 
feels  no  interest  in  sustaining  a  weekly  prayer-meeting,  its 
members  are  also  sadly  neglecting  their  family  altars,  their 
closets,  their  places  of  Sabbath  worship,  and  their  Bibles.  It 
has  its  foundation  in  a  church's  necessity.  It  is  the  needful 
key  which  a  church  should  ever  have  at  its  command  to 
wind  up  its  spiritual  machinery,  whose  tendency  ever  is  to 
run  down.  The  prayer-meeting  is  a  withdrawal  from  the 
din  and  turmoil  of  life  to  the  place  of  devotion.  It  is  the 
assembling  together  of  saints,  and  Christ  is  in  the  midst  of 
them.  It  is  the  Christian's  agape,  —  his  feast  of  love.  And 
it  is  this  meeting  which  is  the  thermometer  of  the  church  ;  it 
indicates  its  spiritual  temperature  ;  it  is  a  reliable  index 
of  its  spirituality.  The  Christian  cannot  best  be  such  as  a 
recluse.  Piety  does  not  thrive  best  in  cloisters  and  by  itself ; 
it  needs  the  sunlight  and  ventilation,  and  to  come  in  con- 
tact with  other  piety.  Piety  shut  up  in  one's  own  bosom 
smoulders  and  dies,  as  soldiers  sicken  and  die  of  inaction. 
Embers,  asunder,  go  out.  Bring  them  together,  and  they 
kindle  and  burn. 

My  brother,  we  can,  and  we  should,  bear  one  another's 
burdens,  —  I  yours,  and  you  mine.  You  are  my  keeper, 
and  I  am  yours.  You  should  pray  for  me,  and  I  for  you, 
and  in  each  other's  presence.  Perhaps  either  of  us  may  do 
for  the  other  what  neither  of  us  could  do  for  ourselves 
You  may  see  my  failings  and  my  spiritual  necessities  more 
distinctly  than  I  see  them  myself,  —  so  I  may  yours.  I  will 
tell  you  of  my  sins,  my  struggles,  and  my  successers,  and  you 


A   WORD  IN  SEASON.  387 

shall  tell  me  yours,  aud  we  both  shall  thus  be  made  more 
vigilant,  wiser,  and  stronger.  "We  will  meet  in  our  weekly 
meeting  for  prayer,  open  our  hearts,  and  agree  as  touching 
one  thing.  "We  will  unite  in  prayer.  And  our  union  shall 
be  our  strength,  and  we  shall  prevail  with  Him  who  has  the 
residue  of  the  Spirit. 

I  pity  that  member  of  the  body  of  Christ  who  never  meets 
with  his  Christian  brethren  in  the  place  of  social  prayer,  and 
who  feels  in  his  soul  no  pressing  need  of  coming  to  the 
church's  weekly  convocation.  He  is  among  those  who  for- 
get the  assembling  of  themselves  together,  —  and  at  the  very 
place  where  he  needs  most  of  all  to  come.  For  a  church- 
member  never  to  be  found  at  any  of  its  stated  meetings  for 
prayer,  is  an  ominous  symptom.  He  has  reason  to  beware 
lest  he  should  not  be  welcomed  to  that  greater  meeting, 
where  all  prayer  shall  be  exchanged  for  praise. '  The  prayer- 
meeting  is  a  strong  link  in  the  golden  chain  which  unites  any 
church  here  below  with  the  Church  above. 


A    WORD    IN    SEASON. 

EMMA  C ,  an  earnest  young  Christian,  had  returned 
from  school,  where  much  religious  interest  existed,  to 
her  country  home  to  spend  a  summer  vacation.  It  was  a 
sultry  Sabbath  in  August,  and  the  long,  dusty  walk  to  church 
was  very  wearisome. 

Toiling  up  the  hill  before  her,  she   saw  Mrs.    D ,  a 

young  woman  about  her  own  age,  who  was  far  more  weary 
than  herself,  —  weary  of  her  life  of  toil  and  hardship,  weary 
of  her  cares  and  trials,  but,  above  all,  weary  of  her  own  sin- 
ful heart,  —  weary  without  any  hope  or  prospect  of  rest  in 
this  life  or  in  that  which  is  to  come.  Arrived  at  the  small 
church,  they  found  it  closed.     It  was  the  pastor's  summer 


388  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

vacation,  and  no  supply  had  been  obtained.  Numbers 
turned  away,  sadly,  to  pursue  tlieir  walk  homeward  under 
the  rays  of  the  fierce  noontide  sun,  and  Emma,  as  she  turned, 

caught  a  glimpse  of  Mrs.  D 's  sad,  careworn  face,  and 

thought  she  detected  more  than  ordinary  regret  at  the  dis- 
appointment. In  an  instant  she  was  by  her  side.  Their 
way  home  was   the   same,  and   Emma   resolved   that   Mrs. 

D should   not  return  without  a   friendly   invitation   to 

come  to  Jesus. 

To  her  surprise  she  found  her  more  than  willing,  — 
anxious  to  learn  the  way  of  life.  Earnestly  Emma  pointed 
her  to  the  Lamb  of  God  which  taketh  away  the  sins  of  the 

world.    As  they  parted  she  said,  "  Now,  my  dear  Mrs.  D , 

go  to  your  room  and  leave  it  not  until  you  have  resolved  to 
cast  your  soul  upon  Jesus,  and  I  will  spend  this  Sabbath  in 
prayer  that  you  may  be  accepted.  When  they  next  met,  this 
was  the  language  of  Mrs.  D 's  heart :  — 

"  I  came  to  Jesus  as  I  was, 
Weary,  and  worn,  and  sad ; 
I  found  in  liim  a  resting-place. 
And  he  has  made  me  glad." 

And  her  subsequent  life  proved  the  reality  of  the  change. 
She  gave  herself  no  rest  until  her  sisters  were  also  brought 

into  the  fold,  and  both  Mrs.  D and  those  sisters  are  now 

rearing  their  families  "  in  the  nurture  and  admonition  of  the 
Lord." 

"  In  the  morning  sow  thy  seed,  and  in  the  evening  with- 
hold not  thy  hand  ;  for  thou  knowest  not  whether  shall  pros- 
per either  this  or  that,  or  whether  they  ^th  shall  be  alike 
good." 


DEAD.  389 


DEAD 


HE  left  us,  our  "first-born  blessing,"  our  brave,  noble, 
beautiful  boy  left  us,  to  lay  his  precious  life  a  sacrifice 
upon  the  altar  of  freedom.  It  was  a  sad,  painful  day,  and 
yet  how  different  from  this  ;  for  then  white-winged  hope  flut- 
tered over  my  heart,  warding  off  the  sharp  arrows  of  fear. 
True,  when  night  came,  and  our  dear  boy  had  gone  to  the  seat 
of  war,  the  world  was  less  bright,  but  still  hope  whispered  of 
the  loving  letters  that  would  soon  come  to  cheer  us,  and  with 
that  the  heart  rested.  And  they  did  come,  soon  and  fre- 
quently, —  for  months  they  came,  those  long,  interesting, 
tender  epistles,  and  the  last  one  came.  Then  the  kind-hearted 
captain  wrote,  and,  one  dreary  March  night  there  came  a 
message,  —  and  we  were  smitten. 

Bead,  —  what  a  crushing  weight  that  little  word  brought ! 
How  much  of  earthly  joy  it  blotted  out !  He  was  dead,  and 
the  "  sacred  dust "  was  even  then  on  the  way  to  his  loved 
home.  What  a  night  it  was  !  What  a  sad,  tearful,  sleepless 
night !  And  when  at  last  it  had  worn  away,  how  strange  and 
gloomy  everything  seemed.  But  the  agony  of  our  bereave- 
ment was  yet  to  come.  An  "  express,"  all  unlooked  for, 
stopped  at  the  gate.  One  hasty  glance  revealed  the  errand, 
and  0,  had  not  God's  pitying  angels  then  been  near,  reason 
had  surely  left  me.  I  ran  to  my  chamber  to  be  alone.  I 
heard  the  muffled  tramp  of  feet,  and  knew  they  were  bringing 
in  the  still  form,  that  went  out  so  full  of  life,  so  determined 
to  fight  valiantly  for  "freedom's  sake." 

They  came  to  me  with  tender  words :  "  He  looks  so 
natural,  so  peaceful,  so  lovely,  you  will  feel  better  to  look  at 
him."  I  begged  to  go  alone.  "  I  would  be  alone  when  I  meet 
my  sonP  I  opened  the  door.  "A  coffin !^^  Others  have 
doubtless  experienced  the  same  emotions  that  swept  over  me 
in  that  dreadful  moment;  but,  thank  God,  they  can  never 


390  HOUSEHOLD   READING. 

come  but  once  "  A  coffin  in  our  house  !  Oh  !  can  I  live  ?  " 
A  score  of  years  had  come  and  gone  since  our  home  was  con- 
stituted, and  in  all  that  time  the  death-angel  had  passed  us 
by,  invading  the  nomes  of  nearly  all  around  us,  and  now  our 
time  had  come.  "  A  coffin  in  our  house!"  I  stepped  trem- 
blingly forward,  and  looked.  It  was  indeed  my  son,  but  oh  I 
so  pale,  so  thin,  so  changed,  yet  with  an  expression  so  peace- 
ful, even  as  the  good  captain  had  written,  "peaceful  as  a 
child  asleep." 

"  It  cannot  be  that  he  is  dead :  he  must  open  those  dear 
eyes,  must  call  me  motlier !  " 

I  touched  my  lips  to  the  broad,  beautiful  brow.  It  was 
cold,  oh !  so  cold!  that  I  for  the  first  time  really  knew  that  he 
was  dead ;  and  oh !  my  heart's  rebellion,  in  the  agonizing 
moments  that  followed,  was  fearful !  I  forgot  the  loving 
heart  that  ever  beats  in  sympathy  with  my  own,  forgot  the 
dear  ones  that  are  still  left  to  call  me  mother,  and  felt  that  I 
must  die,  and  be  with  my  patriot  son.  Then  there  came  a 
voice  to  my  heart  that  said,  "  Be  still,  and  know  that  I  am 
Grod,^^  and  I  sank_  beside  that  sacred  clay  in  humble  submis- 
sion to  His  will,  and  communed  with  him  as  I  had  never  done 
before ;  and  his  heavenly  love  so  filled  my  soul,  I  had  such 
glorious  perceptions  of  his  wisdom  and  justice  and  mercy 
and  love,  that  I  arose  with  a  spirit  of  peace  and  gratitude, 
knowing  that  my  Father  had  only  afflicted  that  he  might 
draw  me  nearer  to  himself. 

"  And  in  that  room  of  death  my  soul  drew  nearer 
To  the  great  presence  of  the  things  unseen , 
The  deep,  dark  mystery  of  life  grew  clearer, 
Until  on  life  and  death  I  looked  serene. 

"  And  looked  serene  upon  that  lovely  sleeper ; 
Kissed  the  pale  face,  which  silently  had  taught 
That  death  and  sorrow  bring  us  knowledge  deeper, 
And  deeper  joy  than  this  dear  life  had  brought." 

Mourning  mothers,  I  have  turned  to  this  saddest  chapter  in 
my  life-book  that  I  might  show  you   the  sweet,   sustaining 


DEAD.  391 

power  of  heavenly  love,  and  entreat  you  to  lean  trustingly 
upon  the  Saviour.  Every  fresh  announcement  from  battle- 
field and  hospital  carries  me  swiftly  back  to  that  sorrowing 
time,  when  earthly  ties  were  suddenly  riven,  and  the  joys  of 
heaven  took  a  brighter  glow ;  and  I  long  to  take  you  tenderly 
by  the  hand,  — you  especially  who  cannot  lay  the  great  burden 
of  your  grief  at  the  foot  of  the  cross,  who  cannot,  amid  your 
falling  tears,  say,  "  Even  so.  Father,  for  so  it  seemed  good  in 
thy  sight,"  —  and  tell  you  of  the  blessed  love  that  has  often 
filled  my  heart  with  praises  to  the  "  great  and  glorious 
Giver,"  even  to  forgetfulness  of  the  loss  of  one  of  its  dearest 
objects  of  earthly  solicitude.  Nothing  but  God's  grace  can 
sustain  us  in  these  sorrowing  times,  and  that  is  all-sufficient. 
He  knoweth  how  much  affliction  is  necessary  for  our  disci- 
pline ;  and  let  us  accept  it  meekly,  nay,  gratefully,  and  go  on 
our  way  with  increased  faith  and  chastened  love.  Let  us 
remember  that  one  may  be  selfish  even  in  grief;  and  though 
our  tears  must  sometimes  fall  for  the  bright,  beautiful  ones  who 
will  never  appear  again  in  our  home  circles,  our  smiles  must 
not  be  withheld  from  those  who  are  still  left  us.  And  though 
our  sons  may  go  down  to  patriot  graves,  others'  sons  are  left, 
for  whom  we  may  labor.  "While  we  remain  in  this  life  we 
have  a  work  to  do,  and  let  us  give  ourselves  to  it  with  cheer- 
fulness and  zeal.  Let  us  not  brood  over  our  sorrows,  but 
rejoice  at  our  manifold  blessings.  What  though  our  eyes  are 
dimmed,  and  cheeks  withered,  as  with  many  years,  it  matters 
little,  so  that  the  spirit  is  brightened  with  new  beauty,  and 
the  soul  drawn  nearer  heaven. 


892  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 


*'  AND  A  LITTLE  CHILD  SHALL  LEAD  THEM." 

yOICELESS,  in  our  human  speaking, 
Ignorant  of  human  teaching, 
Hardly  yet  beyond  the  reaching 
Of  the  angels,  strong  and  fair  ; 
Little  exiles  for  the  sky. 
Wailing  no  one  knoweth  why,. 
With  a  grieved  and  homesick  cry, 
As  for  mother's  watch  and  care. 

Eyes,  half-closed  in  silent  wonder. 
Head,  that  bends  the  strange  weight  under, 
Of  the  new  life,  rent  asunder 
From  the  life  that  gave  it  birth  ; 
Hands  that  clasp  with  feeble  clinging 
Our  poor  strength,  its  aid  down  bringing, 
With  the  love  that,  strong,  upspringing. 
Gladly  welcomes  them  to  earth. 

Ears  that  hear  the  far-off  ringing 
*  Of  the  songs  the  saints  are  singing. 
While  the  calm,  celestial  hymning 
Bends  the  little  lips  in  smUes  ; 
Converse  sweet  the  soul  is  keeping  ; 
Safe  escaped  from  earthly  weeping. 
See  how  calm  the  child  is  sleeping. 
Breathing  soft  and  low  the  whiles. 

Feet  not  yet  sore,  worn,  and  bleeding, 
With  the  rough  path  of  their  treading, 
But  the  upward  way  now  leading 
To  the  land  of  perfect  rest. 
Lead,  0  children  !  patiently. 
To  heaven's  fair  and  broad  country. 
To  the  home  where  we  would  be,  — 
To  the  people  of  the  blest ! 


PRAYER  IN  A   PERILOUS   POSITION.  393 


PRAYER  IN  A  PERILOUS   POSITION. 

DEACON  C.  G.  McN ,  formerly  of  Andover,  Massa- 
chusetts, a  bee-master  of  the  Langstroth  school,  in  com- 
pany with  several  others,  was  lately  hunting  bees  in  the  woods 
skirting  Cedar  River,  Iowa.  He  had  ascended  a  tree  about 
twenty  feet  from  the  ground,  and  cut  a  limb  containing  a 
swarm  of  bees,  when  it  fell  against  another  tree,  knocking 
him  off,  and  catching  his  left  hand  in  a  crotch  of  the  tree. 
Here  he  hung  for  about  half  an  hour,  unable  to  extricate  him- 
self, or  to  obtain  any  support,  except  by  clinging  partially 
around  the  body  of  the  tree  with  his  legs.  His  friends  were 
unable  to  reach  him  or  afford  him  any  relief;  and  it  seemed 
to  him  that  he  must  either  cut  his  arm  off  with  his  knife,  and 
drop  to  the  ground,  or  die  in  a  most  distressing  manner 
where  he  was.  His  hand  was  growing  black  and  numb  with 
impeded  circulation,  and  he  was  becoming  faint  with  pain 
and  exhaustion.  His  friends  told  him  they  could  do  no  more 
for  him.  He  loplied  that  he  must  then  see  if  there  was  any 
help  for  him  in  God.  One  of  the  men  could  just  reach  his 
right  hand  from  a  limb  above  him.  He  requested  him  to 
reach  down  and  support  him  a  little,  while  he  engaged  in 
prayer.  He  prayed  earnestly  that  God  would  spare  him  and 
send  relief,  if  it  were  possible  ;  and  prepare  him  and  his  fam- 
ily for  death,  if  he  must  die. 

After  prayer,  he  was  relieved  of  the  faintness  and  felt 
stronger.  It  then  occurred  to  him  that  if  a  long  pole  were 
set  up  against  the  tree,  so  that  he  could  rest  his  feet  upon  it, 
he  might  possibly  be  able  to. extricate  his  hand.  A  tree  was 
cut  and  placed  so  that  he  could  rest  one  foot  upon  it.  After 
slipping  from  under  him  once,  it  at  length  supported  him, 
when  he  succeeded  in  pressing  his  hand  up,  and  was  set  at 
liberty.  He  could  now  just  reach  the  temporal  y  ladder  by 
which  he  ascended  the  tree,  and  was  soon  safe  on  the  ground 
with  his  rejoicing  companions. 


•^94  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

After  resting  a  few  moments,  the  Deacon  remarked,  that 
such  a  deliverance  was  too  great  to  be  passed  by  without 
tlianlcsgiving .  None  of  them  were  Christians,  and  some  of 
them  far  from  righteousness.  But  he  knelt  down  before 
them  all,  and  offered  up  hearty  thanks  to  God  "  for  his 
goodness  and  his  wonderful  works  to  the  children  of  men  "  ; 
they  also  kneeling,  reverently  and  uncovered,  during  the  ex- 
ercise. 

Such  an  example  of  cool  self-possession  in  extreme  peril, 
calling  upon  God  in  trouble,  and  giving  thanks  for  gracious 
deliverance,  must  have  made  a  salutary  impression  upon 
those  who  witnessed  it.  Was  it  not  a  fulfilment  of  the  prom- 
ise, ''^Call  upon  me  in  the  day  of  trouble ;  I  will  deliver  thee^ 
and  thou  shalt  glorify  me^^  ? 


lAGO. 

HOWEVER  the  other  characters  bustle,  lago  is  the  mov- 
ing spirit  in  the  play  of  Othello.  He  is  not  only  every 
where  present  himself  with  his  stealthy  personality,  but  he  is 
the  direct  occasion  of  all  the  actions  of  the  other  persons. 
His  devilish  face  looks  out  of  every  scene,  at  Venice,  and  at 
Cyprus,  in  the  council-hall,  in  the  midnight  revel,  in  the 
chamber  of  love,  and  in  the  chamber  of  death.  He  pulls  the 
strings  that  move  every  tongue  and  arm.  He  points  Roderi- 
go's  sword  at  his  friend's  bosom ;  he  prompts  the  intemperate 
fury  of  Cassio  ;  he  brings  tears  into  the  undimmed  eyes  of 
Desdemona  ;  he  unsettles  the  steady  soul  of  Othello  ;  and 
"  the  tragic  loading  of  the  bed  "  is  "  all  his  work."  A  per- 
fect parallel  to  the  character  of  lago  cannot  be  found,  either 
in  the  writings  of  Shakespeare  or  of  any  other  author.  A  man 
without  a  touch  of  human  goodness,  —  a  villain,  without  a 
villain's  weakness,  —  a  polished  intellect,  without  a  ray  of  in- 


lAGO.  395 

tellectual  elevation,  —  even  Shakespeare  could  not  have  cre- 
ated such  another.  When  Richard  III.  cries  out  on  Bosworth 
field,  "  A  thousand  hearts  are  great  within  my  bosom,"  we 
forget  the  tyrant  and  murderer,  and  wish  him  a  brave  death 
and  a  soldier's  grave.  lago  has  not  even  the  ruffian's  daring 
to  recommend  him ;  he  strikes  with  the  assassin's  steel  in  the 
dark,  and  stabs,  like  Joab,  under  the  guise  of  a  friend.  When 
the  usurping  king  of  Denmark  soliloquizes  with  such  mourn- 
ful pathos  about  his  crime,  and  kneels  to  ask  the  forgiveness 
of  Heaven,  we  yield  him  our  pity,  and  feel  that,  though  a  deep 
ofiender,  he  still  has  feeling.  lago  has  no  such  "  compunc- 
tious visitings."  He  scoffs  at  the  present,  and  sneers  at  the 
future.  He  does  not  profess  himself  an  atheist,  for  that 
would  be  too  blundering  work  for  his  exquisite  sense  of  evil ; 
but  he  covertly  undermines  God's  throne  by  making  all 
things  true,  and  honest,  and  just,  and  pure,  and  lovely,  and 
of  good  report,  the  objects  of  his  wicked  wit.  He  has  been 
compared  to  the  Mephistopheles  of  Goethe ;  but  the  im- 
measurably higher  power  of  Shakespeare  is  shown  by  discard- 
ing the  supernatural,  and  by  subjecting  all  human  passions 
and  weaknesses  to  the  control  of  a  totally  corrupt  ivill,  while 
the  bounds  of  nature  are  not  for  a  moment  transcended, 
lago  is  undeniably  human,  while  yet  the  incarnation  of  evil. 
Mephistopheles  amuses  us  by  his  tricks  and  transformations  ; 
but  lago  actually  makes  us  tremble,  and  we  draw  a  long 
breath  when  he  is  put  out  of  the  world.  We  see  that  the 
pure  maliciousness  of  lago  is  somehow  in  the  capacity  of  a 
human  soul.  There  have  been  approximations  to  it  in  his- 
tory, and  it  may  be  in  our  own  observations  of  men.  Some 
men  have  apparently  become  steeled  to  good,  and  totally 
"  given  over "  to  evil. 

The  seeming  want  of  motive  in  lago's  conduct  has  often 
been  noticed.  Coleridge  calls  it  his  "  motiveless  malignity." 
A  hint  or  so  which  he  himself  gives  us  about  disappointed 
ambition,  and  an  indefinite  suspicion  of  his  wife's  integrity, 
are  the  only  alleged  reasons  for  his  stupendous  and  destruc- 


39G  HOUSEHOLD  BEADING. 

tive  course  of  wickedness.  Is  not  this  a  proof  of  Shake- 
speare's fearful  acquaintance  with  the  human  mind  ?  Instead 
of  setting  motive  over  against  action,  as  we  study  cause  and 
effect  in  the  science  of  mechanics,  he  has  a  more  subtle  and 
vital  view  of  the  human  heart,  and  reveals  its  workings  as 
thej  really  are,  too  indefinite  to  be  analyzed,  too  spiritual  to 
be  philosophized  about.  There  are  influences  within  and  be- 
yond, not  possible  to  be  represented,  not  confinable  in  terms 
and  systems.  He  lets  actions  crop  out,  but  does  not  attempt 
to  follow  down  the  vast  sweep  of  their  hidden  strata  into  the 
central  abysses  of  the  world  of  sin.  It  was  indeed  quite 
enough  for  a  thoroughly  evil  nature  like  lago's  to  have  a 
noble  nature  like  Othello's  constantly  before  him,  to  excite 
the  deepest  hatred  by  the  law  of  opposites.  So  the  very  spec- 
tacle of  pure  and  virtuous  enjoyment,  such  as  the  love  of 
Othello  and  Desdemona,  was  sufficient  in  itself  to  rouse  "  the 
cruel  devil  of  his  will "  into  full  and  fatal  activity.  Shake- 
speare is  willing  to  appear  unphilosophical  and  unintelligible 
in  order  to  be  true,  and  to  exhibit  things  as  nature  often  ex- 
hibits them,  and  as  the  Bible  exhibits  them.  The  Bible  rep- 
resents the  unrenewed  human  heart  as  "  deceitful  above  all 
things,  and  desperately  wicked."  It  is  an  inexplicable  thing, 
a  bottomless  deep. 

The  two  most  prominent  features  of  lago's  moral  character 
are  his  entire  selfishness  and  his  supreme  hypocrisy.  In  his 
first  conversation  with  Roderigo  to  whom,  in  his  contempt 
for  him,  he  was  not  afraid  to  expose  somewhat  of  his  real 
character,  he  says, — 

"  Were  I  the  Moor,  I  would  not  be  lago  ; 
In  following  him,  I  follow  but  myself." 

He  moulds  all,  while  outwardly  subservient.  He  serves  no 
one  but  himself.  In  his  advice  to  Roderigo,  he  says :  "  I  have 
looked  upon  the  world  for  four  times  seven  years,  and  since 
I  could  distinguish  between  a  benefit  and  an  injury,  1  never 
found  a  man  who  knew  how  to  love  himself."  His  hypocrisy 
is  carelessly  manifested.     It  is  the  only  thing  he  seems  to  do 


lAGO.  397 

naturally.  He  says  to  Roderigo,  "  I  am  not  what  I  am." 
In  another  place  he  remarks,  "  Though  I  hate  him  as  I  hate 
hell-pains,  yet  for  necessity  of  present  life,  I  must  show  out  a 
flag  and  sign  of  love,  which  is  indeed  but  sign."  He  is  hail- 
fellow  with  the  youthful  carouser  and  deep  drinker,  and  yet 
with  perfect  grace  he  becomes  the  saint,  and  tells  Othello,  "  I 
lack  iniquity  sometimes  to  do  me  service."  Othello  calls  him 
to  the  last,  "  honest  lago,"  "  my  just  friend."  Even  his 
wife  seems  to  have  no  suspicion  of  his  real  character.  After 
Satan,  lago  is  the  truest  type  of  the  worst  style  of  Jesuit. 

The  chief  mental  characteristics  of  lago  are  instinctive  sa- 
gacity, or  marvellous  perceptive  power,  and  cool,  unconquer. 
able  force  of  ^ill.  He  seems  to  have  made  .a  study  of  the 
concealed  springs  of  human  action,  —  to  have  made  himself 
master  of  men.  He  had  unfortunately  found  out  that  good 
men  had  weak  points  ;  not  in  their  principles,  but  hearts. 
He  took  deliberate  advantage  of  this  discovery.  He  adapted 
himself  intuitively  to  the  disposition  of  every  one  with  whom 
he  had  to  deal,  and  plied  him  with  those  baits  that  would 
prove  successful  to  his  overthrow.  The  mode  in  which  he 
turns  to  account  the  smallest  circumstance  shows  that  he  un- 
derstood men,  and  knew  that  they  were  ill-balanced  and  weak 
creatures,  not  moved  by  earthquakes,  but  by  shadows  and 
sunshine.  He  never  neglected  little  things.  The  cautious 
but  sure  method  in  which  he  proceeds  to  plant  the  suspicion 
in  the  mind  of  Othello,  the  mysterious  tone,  the  abstracted 
repetition,  the  obscure  meaning,  the  undefined  hint,  winding 
up  the  curiosity  of  the  man  to  that  pitch  of  excitement  in 
which  his  calm  judgment  became  confused,  shows  his  deep 
sagacity  in  the  study  of  men. 

lago's  practical  philosophy,  or  vigorous  metaphysics,  in  a 
good  man,  would  be  almost  worthy  of  imitation  ;  but,  like  any 
bad  intellectual  man,  he  has  no  corresponding  faith  to  save 
and  sanctify  his  will. .  None  of  the  old  fathers  had  a  more 
profound  idea  of  man's  self-determining  power  of  will  than 
he.     He  regarded  himself  as  the  complete  maker  of  his  own 


•S98  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

actions  and  destiny.  "  'T  is  in  ourselves,"  he  says,  "  that  wo 
are  thus  and  thus."  He  would  bring  every  emotion,  every 
passion,  under  the  control  of  an  iron  determination.  "  Love ! " 
he  sneeringly  exclaims ;  "  it  is  merely  a  lust  of  the  blood,  a 
permission  of  the  will."  This  is  the  secret  of  his  constant 
self-possession.  He  leads  the  creatures  of  passion  by  whom 
he  is  surrounded  after  him  at  his  pleasure.  He  is  a  Napo- 
leon, without  Napoleon's  childish  traits.  Shakespeare  has 
even  put  much  sound  wisdom  and  shrewd  advice  into  the 
scoffing,  leprous  lips  of  this  unadulterated  villain. 

Who  will  say  that  the  character  of  lago  is  not  a  powerful 
sermon  ?  Show  us  the  preacher  who  can  preach  like  this. 
Spurgeon's  coarse  and  tremendous  images  do  not  appall  like 
the  vague,  unbounded  capabilities  of  lago  for  pure  evil. 
There  are  depths  of  hell  in  single  words  of  his  from  which 
we  shrink  terrified.  lago  preaches  to  every  man's  conscience. 
He  warns  every  man  against  swerving  from  the  plain  path  of 
truth.  He  warns  especially  against  the  Jesuitical  method  of 
action.  The  hint,  the  concealed  suggestion,  the  underhand 
mode  of  saying  and  doing  things,  are  opposed  to  the  charac- 
ters of  "  the  children  of  light  and  of  the  day,"  and  belong  to 
Satan's  way  of  doing  things.  Christians  should  never  deal 
in  these  weapons.  One  cannot  love  his  brother  who-is  afraid 
of  speaking  the  truth  to  his  face,  or  who  works  against  him 
in  a  hidden  manner.  We  are  all  liable  to  temptation  in  this 
as  in  everything  else.  When  shall  the  clear  and  sweet  at- 
mosphere of  perfect  truth,  and  of  unfeigned  love  pervade 
even  the  Christian  world  ? 


DEACON  RISING'S   DANCING-SCHOOL.  399 


THE    FIRST    GLASS. 

SAID  Edmund  Burke,  in  the  British  Parliament,  while 
pleading  against  the  incipient  step  to  a  questionable 
measure,  "  A  spider  of  natural  size  is  only  a  spider  ugly 
and  loathsome,  and  his  flimsy  net  is  only  fit  for  catch- 
ing flics.  But,  g\3od  God,  suppose  a  spider  as  large  as  an 
ox,  and  that  he  spread  his  cable  about  us  ;  all  the  wilds  of 
Africa  would  not  produce  anything  so  dreadful!" 

We  are  sometimes  reminded  of  Mr.  Burke's  spider,  as  we 
see  a  dramseller  intrenched  amidst  his  glittering  decanters 
in  some  fashionable  saloon.  He  calls  our  youngsters  about 
him  with  most  seductive  blandishments.  He  weaves  his 
net  with  inimitable  skill  and  grace.  At  first  it  is  so  delicate 
and  plastic,  the  victim  hardly  knows  he  is  within  its  folds  ; 
but  by  and  by  the  fibres  wax  stronger  and  stronger,  till  they 
become  like  the  cordage  of  a  mighty  ship,  and  the  struggling 
victim,  bound  hand  and  foot,  struggles  in  vain. 

Young  man,  the  first  step  to  a  drunkard's  fate  may  be  the 
first  glass,  the  first  vile  habit,  the  first  time  you  coiisort  with 
a  gay  companion,  the  first  cigar,  or  the  first  time  you  place 
your  foot  within  the  threshold  of  a  gilded  dram-shop.  Shun 
them  all,  and  be  safe. 


DEACON  RISING'S  DANCING -SCHOOL. 

THERE  are  some  people  who  are  so  honest,  single- 
minded,  and  sincere,  that  we  seem  to  feel  that  they 
are  the  Nathaniels  of  our  generation.  We  always  love  to 
meet  such  men.  We  feel  that  it  would  be  hard  for  tempta- 
tion to  fasten  on  them  ;  and  if  the  wind  ever  blows  dust  on 


400  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

them,  it  soon  blows  it  off  again.  Such  a  man  was  Mr. 
Simplemiud,  —  well  known  in  all  our  region  as  one  who 
found  it  hard  to  do  wrong,  and  equally  hard  to  imagine  it 
in  others.  He  was  a  home  man,  but  on  one  occasion  he  was 
called  to  go  on  urgent  business  for  a  friend  to  the  village  of 
Suppleham,  some  two  hundred  miles  from  home.  His  busi 
ness  took  him  at  once  to  the  house  of  Deacon  Rising,  of 
whom  he  had  heard  often,  and  in  whose  society  he  expected 
to  enjoy  much.  The  Deacon  lived  in  a  new,  jaunty-looking 
house,  evidently  smarting  up,  and  determined  not  to  be  left 
behind  in  paint  or  furniture.  It  was,  indeed,  quite  stylish, 
"  with  all  the  modern  improvements."  Mr.  Simplemind 
arrived  just  before  tea,  and,  of  course,  was  invited  to  the 
hospitalities  of  the  table.  As  soon  as  the  tea  was  over,  the 
Bible  was  brought  for  family  worship.  The  two  young 
ladies,  the  daughters,  and  very  pretty  they  were,  said  that 
they  must  be  excused  in  order  to  dress,  and  so  they  were 
not  to  be  at  prayers.  Mr.  Simplemind  looked  disappointed. 
A  short  chapter,  selected  for  its  shortness,  evidently,  and  a 
short,  hurried  prayer,  were  soon  over. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Mr.  Simplemind,  "  I  presume 
your  daughters  are  dressing  for  company,  and  I  fear  if  I 
accept  your  kind  invitation  to  stay  with  you,  I  shall  be  in 
the  way." 

"0,  not  at  all.  We  are  not  to  have  company.  My 
daughters  are  only  dressing  for  the  dancing-school." 

"  TJie  dancing-school!     Why,  Deacon  Rising!  " 

"  You  seem  to   be  surprised,  sir.     Well,  we  did  hesitate  . 
some  about  it,  but  all  the  young  people  were  going,  and  we 
did  n't  want  to  be  rigid." 

"  All  the  young  people  going  !  Why,  there  must  be  some 
very  hard  ones,  unless  your  place  is  very  remarkable." 

"  I  don't  mean  all,  but  all  the  first  families.  We  took 
special  care  to  see  that  none  but  moral  and  respectable  young 
people  were  admitted." 

"  I  see.      Then  dancing-schools  are  such  places   that  the 


DEACON   EISING'S   DANCING-SCHOOL.  401 

immoral  and  the  not  respectable  are  likely  to  go,  and  so 
likely  that  you  have  to  take  '  special  care '  to  guard 
against  it.  You  don't  take  any  such  pains  when  you  open 
a  new  prayer-meeting  or  Sabbath  school,  do  you  ?  May  I 
be  permitted  to  ask  if  Clmstian  parents  are  doing  right  to 
send  or  allow  their  children  to  go  to  amusements  or  places 
to  which  it  is  so  natural  for  the  wicked  to  go  that  you  have 
to  take  special  care  to  keep  them  out  ?  " 

"  Now,  my  good  sir,  let  us  be  candid —  " 

"  Well,  1  feel  sure  I  want  to  be,  and  have  been  afraid  you 
would  think  me  too  candid." 

"  What  harm  does  it  do  for  my  children  to  go  to  a  dancing- 
school  with  good  moral  companions  ?  They  are  particular 
not  to  keep  late  hours." 

"  Late  hours,  then,  are  the  7iatural  consequences  of  the 
thing,  or  else  they  would  not  have  to  be  '  particular.'  You 
don't  have  to  make  this  remark  about  any  religious  meeting 
or  gathering.  I  never  heard  such  a  thing  said  about  any 
charitable  gathering  in  my  life." 

"  Now,  Mr.  Simplemind,"  said  Mrs.  Rising,  "  don't  the  Bible 
say  there  is  a  time  for  all  things,  and  '  a  time  to  dance '  ?  " 

"  Truly,  madam,  the  Bible  says  there  is  a  time  to  dance, 
and  a  time  '  to  pull  down,'  and  '  a  time  to  kill,'  but  I  have 
never  yet  pulled  down  my  house,  or  killed  anybody,  because 
there  is  opportunity  for  doing  such  things.  You  surely  don't 
understand  that  text  to  teach  us  to  tear  down  the  house,  or 
character,  or  influence,  or  to  kill  body  or  soui  ?  " 

"  Well,  but  did  not  David  dance  before  the  Lord  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  danced  with  all  his  might ;  but  tliat  was  relig- 
ious worship.  You  don't  mean  to  say  that  your  daughters 
go  to  the  dancing-school  for  religious  worship,  do  you  ?  If 
they  do,  then  we  should  ask  a  question  or  two,  whether,  un- 
der the  light  of  the  Gospel,  this  is  the  best  method  of  wor- 
ship ?  But  I  know  you  don't  pretend  to  place  it  on  that 
ground." 

"  Well,  sir,"   said  Deacon  Rising,  "  we  live   in   peculiar 

26 


402  HOUSEHOLD   READING. 

times.  Our  religion  has  suffered  because  we  have  been  rigid, 
and  thought  to  be  morose.-  I  don't  think  we  should  make 
men  hate  religion,  by  being  sour  and  crabbed." 

"  Certainly  not.  But,  my  dear  sir,  is  that  your  motive  in 
sending  your  children  to  the  school  ?  Was  it  a  religious  duty, 
a  desire  to  honor  Christ,  that  led  you  to  do  it  ?  I  feel  certain 
it  was  not." 

"  Now,  really,  Mr.  Simplemind,  you  carry  things  too  fai . 
Pray,  what  hu7't  does  it  do  for  my  children  to  go  to  this 
dancing-school  ? " 

"  The  very  question  I  have  been  wanting  to  have  you  ask  ; 
and  I  will  be  very  brief  and  plain  in  my  reply.  It  does  hurt 
in  these  ways  :  — 

"  («.)  You  were  chosen  to  be  a  deacon  of  an  Orthodox 
church,  because  your  brethren  thought  that,  in  character,  in 
example,  and  influence,  they  could  safely  point  their  families 
to  you  as  a  model.  They  thought  you  to  be  a  simple,  humble 
Christian,  —  one  who  would  not  strive  to  gain  both  worlds. 
By  this  act  you  have  fallen  in  their  regards,  in  your  influ 
ence,  in  your  weight  of  Christian  character,  I  have  no  doubt. 

"  (5.)  I  have  also  no  doubt  that  the  whole  church  feels  the 
influence.  Are  not  your  prayer-meetings  veri/  thin,  and  cold, 
and  formal  ?  Don't  you  find  you  cannot  hold  up  your  head, 
and  speak  and  pray  as  you  once  did  ?  Religion  77iust  be  very 
low,  before  you  would  do  such  a  thing. 

"  (c.)  Your  minister,  I  am  bold  to  say,  was  amazed  and 
grieved  when  he  heard  of  it.  He  is  now.  He  mourns  in 
secret  places.  And  if  he  were  asked  by  you  he  would  tell 
you  so.  I  happen  to  know  him  to  be  a  most  excellent  man  ; 
but  don't  it  begin  to  be  whispered  around  that  he  is  '  dull,' 
'  is  not  popular,'  '  is  not  up  to  the  times,'  and  it  would  bo 
well  for  .your  people  to  have  '  a  more  popular  man  '  ?  And 
depend  on  it,  Deacon,  they  will  soon  look  to  you  to  lead  off  in 
this  dance.  Their  instincts  teach  them  that  an  officer  of  the 
church  who  patronizes  the  dancing-school  will  not  long  be 
true  to  his  faithful  minister. 


DEACON   RISINGS   DANCING-SCHOOL.  403 

"  (df.)  Yon  have  brethren  in  the  chnrch  who  are  grieved,  I 
have  no  doubt.  Have  you  not  some  conscientious  Christians 
who  do  not  allow  their  children  to  go  to  tlic  dancing-school  ? 
Their  children  want  to  go,  would  be  delighted  to  go,  per- 
haps beg  to  go,  and  urge  that  Deacon  Rising's  children  go, 
and  these  parents  are  tried.  They  seem  severe.  But  they 
gave  their  children  to  Christ  in  infancy,  and  they  dare  not 
let  them  go  on  the  Devil's  ground.  You  grieve  all  these 
exceedingly. 

"  (e.)  You  hurt  your  own  children.  There  must  be  some 
limits  to  the  thing.  You  know  that  if  you  put  guns  into  the 
hands  of  boys,  they  will  fire  them  off.  If  you  give  a  child 
a  taste  for  dancing,  and  the  power  to  dance,  she  will  inev- 
itably want  to  go  to  public  places  of  amusement,  where  there 
is  opportunity  for  display,  and  where  the  company  is  not '  very 
select,'  or  '  moral,'  and  where  they  do  '  keep  late  hours.' 

"  (/.)  Your  children  will  have  new  and  strong  ties  fasten- 
ing them  to  the  world,  and  drawing  them  away  from  Christ. 
Anything  that  unfits  her  for  the  trying  duties  of  life,  and  for 
the  self-denial  of  the  Christian,  is  a  wrong  done  to  the  child. 
And  pray.  Deacon,  what  possible  cross  does  the  community 
see  you  and  your  Christian  family  take  up  ?  You  have  no 
theatre  and  no  horse-races  here,  and  you  do  not  patronize 
them.  But  if  I  understand  Christ,  we  are  to  take  up  some 
cross  daily,  something  that  will  be  felt  and  seen  as  a  cross. 
Now  where  is  the  cross  which  they  see  you  take  up  for 
Christ  ? 

"  (^.)  If  your  children  are  Christians,  the  wrong  is  hardly 
less  to  them.  If  they  are  Christ's,  he  dwells  with  them. 
Suppose  he  should  call  in  here  in  person  to-night,  and  pro- 
pose to  talk  with  your  children,  would  you  like  to  take  him 
to  the  dancing-school  to  introduce  him  ?  Or  would  you  ask 
him  'just  to  stay  outside,  while  you  went  in  and  called  them 
out '  ?  0  Deacon !  Deacon  !  I  fear  you  are  hurting  your- 
self, hurting  your  family,  grieving  your  fellow-Christians, 
wearing  down  your  minister,  and  grieving  the  Holy  Spirit,  in 


404-  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

conforming  to  the  world.      The  Master  says,  '  Be  not  con- 
formed to  the  world.' " 

Alas  !  Mr.  Simplemind  was  sad  !    Deacon  Rismg  was  sad  ! 
A.nd  I  am  sad !     Reader,  are  we  all  foolish  in  being  sad  ? 


"COME    UP    HITHER." 

^OWNWARD  through  the  still  air  falling, 
From  the  Eternal  Heights  above  me, 
Comes  a  voice  so  tender,  calling, 
"  Wilt  thou  not,  who  fearest,  love  me  ? 
Come  up  hither ! 
I,  who  died  for  thee, 
All  thy  strength  will  be  ; 
Come  up  hither ! " 

Seems  the  voice  so  far  above  me ! 
Yet  so  full  of  mercy  !     Teach  me, 
Thou  Divine  One,  if  thou  love  me, 
How,  in  blindness,  I  may  reach  th<^.e. 
All  this  dreary 
Path  which  leadeth  on. 
Must  I  tread  alone, — 
I,  so  weary  ? 

"  Dreary,  when  the  cross  doth  guide  thee. 
And  thou  knowest  its  wondrous  meaning  ? 
Weary,  when  I  walk  beside  thee, 
Thou  upon  my  bosom  leaning  ? 
Alas  !  with  thee 
Have  I  dwelt  so  long, 
Still  thou  hast  not  known, 
Hast  not  known  me ! 

"  Wouldst  thou  see  me,  thou,  who  fearful 
Falterest  in  the  march  ?     Uplifting  . 


COASTING.  405 


To  the  hills  thine  eyes,  —  not  tearful,  ■ 
Gird  thine  armor  on.     The  rifting 
Clouds  shall  show  thee 
Where  thy  path  doth  lead  : 
Ah  !  thy  weeping  hid 
Its  fair  glory ! 

"  For  the  faithful  and  victorious, 
Out  of  blindness,  wide  the  portal 
Openeth  into  light  how  glorious  ! 
Out  of  Death  to  Life  immortal ! 
Come  up  hither ! 
Fair  in  this  sweet  land 
The  many  mansions  stand  ; 
Come  up  hither." 


COASTING. 

"  £^  WON'T  we  have  some  capital  fun,  coasting,  when  this 

V^  snow-storm  's  over  ?  I  tell  you,  I  guess  the  sleds  will 
fly  down  Pliny  Hill !  " 

"  I  guess  so  too,  and  I  wish  mine  could  be  among  them. 
I  wonder  what  makes  father  feel  so  about  my  sliding  in  the 
highway,  with  the  rest  of  tlie  boys.  He  is  always  talking  to 
me  and  cautioning  me,  and  since  that  accident  last  winter, 
he  has  forbidden  my  sliding  there  at  all.  I  am  sure  I  don't 
think  there 's  any  danger,  if  a  boy  is  only  careful.  Do 
you  ? " 

"  Danger  ?  no !  My  father  lets  me  slide  where  I  choose, 
and  I  guess  my  sled  '11  come  down  Pliny  Hill  pretty  swiftly, 
for  it  is  a  grand  one,  the  runners  are  so  smooth.  I  don't  be- 
lieve there  's  another  sled  in  town  swift  as  my  Arrow.  But 
was  there  an  accident  here  last  winter  ?  " 

"  Yes,  tiioagh  there  was  n't  much  harm  done." 


406  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

"  What  was  it  ?  You  know  I  did  n't  live  here  then." 
"  Why,  you  see  there  were  a  lot  of  boys  on  Pliny  Hill, 
coasting,  and  Ned  Ruggles  was  among  them.  You  know 
what  a  venturesome  fellow  he  is  ?  Well,  Ned  was  just  up 
the  hill  ready  for  another  slide,  when  a  man  came  along  with 
a  horse  and  sleigh.  He  drove  very  slowly,  as  the  road  was 
worn  so  smooth,  for  he  was  afraid  his  horse  might  slip.  Ned 
got  tired  of  waiting,  and  called  out,  '  Come,  boys !  my  horse 
won't  stand.  He  is  bound  to  go  by  that  drone  of  a  beast. 
Come  on  ! '  '  Don't  go,  Ned,'  said  Fred  Carleton  ;  '  perhaps 
you  '11  frighten  the  horse.'  '  Ho  !  no  danger  of  that,'  replied 
Ned ;  '  he  has  n't  activity  enough  to  be  frightened  at  any- 
thing, and  I  'm  sure  he  could  not  jump  if  he  was  frightened. 
At  any  rate,  I  '11  try  him ;  so  here  I  go,  boys !  Come  on ! ' 
And,  suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  he  sprang  upon  his  sled 
and  was  away  in  an  instant ;  and  Billy  Whipple  and  Frank 
Rouins  followed  him.  They  soon  overtook  the  sleigh,  and 
Ned  darted  by,  the  others  following  close  behind  him.  But 
no  sooner  did  the  horse  get  sight  of  him,  than  he  instantly 
sprang  from  the  road  into  the  ditch,  upsetting  the  sleigh  and 
throwing  out  the  driver,  who,  clinging  to  the  reins  in  hopes 
of  stopping  the  animal,  was  dragged  some  distance  by  the 
frightened  creature,  as  he  ran  furiously  down  the  hill.  The 
boys  all  started  after  him,  shouting, '  Whoa ! '  '  Whoa ! '  but  it 
only  made  him  run  the  faster.  He  was,  however,  stopped  as 
soon  as  he  came  into  the  village,  but  the  sleigh  was  dashed 
to  pieces."  • 

"  Was  n't  the  man  injured  very  much  ?  " 
"  No.     He   was    considerably   bruised,   but   no   limb  was 
broken ;   he  was  exceeding   angry,  though,  and   before   he 
started  for  his  horse,  he  stopped  Ned  and  Frank  and  Billy, 
and  made  them  give  him  their  names." 

"  He  did  n't  do  anything  with  them,  did  he  ?  " 
"  Yes  ;  he  prosecuted  them  ;  and  their  fathers  were  obliged 
to  pay  twenty-five  dollars  each,  to  settle  the  affair.     And  my 
father  says  eve/ry  boy  ought  to  be  prosecuted  who  slides  in 
the  streets." 


COASTING.  407 

"  0,  they  could  n't  do  that !  " 

"  Yes  they  could,  because  there  is  a  law  which  forbids  it." 

"  Pshaw  !  I  never  heard  of  that  before.  I  don't  believe  it, 
either,  for  I  guess  our  selectmen  would  put  a  stop  to  it." 

"Don't  you  think  my  father  knows?  I  should  think  a 
latvijer  ought  to  know  what  laws  there  are." 

"  Well,  at  any  rate,  I  don't  see  the  good  of  it,  if  it 's  not 
made  use  of." 

"  I  think  it  is  very  strange  that  people  don't  pay  more 
attention  to  it,  when  it  causes  so  many  accidents." 

"  Well,  I  'm  always  pretty  careful,  and  I  don't  think  any- 
thing serious  will  happen  to  me.  Anyhow,  I  think  I  shall 
try  it  this  afternoon  ;  for,  sec !  it 's  clearing  away.  You  come 
Tip  on  the  hill,  too,  won't  you,  Le  ?  You  can  come  and  see 
the  rest,  you  know,  if  you  don't  slide  yourself." 

"  Perhaps  so ;  I  '11  see,"  said  Leander  just  as  he  arrived  at 
his  father's  gate,  where  he  turned  and  went  in. 

This  conversation  took  place  between  Leander  and  George, 
while  on  their  way  home  from  school,  —  two  boys  of  nearly 
the  same  age,  who  were  fondly  attached  to  each  other,  though 
very  unlike.  George,  like  most  boys,  was  thoughtless  of 
danger.  He  was  free  and  careless,  with  high  and  happy 
spirits  and  a  kind  heart.  He  won  the  name  of  "  Great 
Heart''''  from  his  schoolfellows,  because  he  was  ever  ready, 
not  only  to  sympathize,  but  to  act  for  them  in  any  emer- 
gency. Then,  too,  lie  was  exceedingly  generous,  even  to  a 
fault,  ne-^er  refusing  to  give  of  anything  he  had  ;  and  though 
he  had  naturally  a  strong  will,  his  generous  and  kind  heart 
won  for  him  many  friends. 

Leander  was  quite  a  different  lad  in  some  respects.  He 
was  more  thoughtful  and  cautious  of  consequences,  perhaps 
owing  in  some  measure  to  the  oft-repeated  instructions  he 
received  from  his  judicious  father.  He  was  a  good  boy,  and, 
like  George,  found  many  friends.  He  loved  to  mingle  with 
his  playmates  in  their  sports,  but  was  always  happy  to  be  a 
spectator  only,  if  forbidden  by  his  parents  to  join  them. 


408  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

In  the  afternoon  the  clouds  had  all  disappeared,  and  the 
clear,  blue  sky  and  frosty,  bracing  air  lured  Leander  away 
from  home  toward  the  company  of  boys  on  Pliny  Hill. 
Their  merry  shouts  greeted  his  ears  long  before  he  reached 
them,  and  he  distinctly  heard  George's  voice  among  the  noisy 
group. 

We  fear  there  are  not  many  boys  who  could  withstand  so 
many  urgent  entreaties  to  join  in  the  pleasure  as  Le  did  that 
afternoon ;  but  his  father  had  forbidden  it,  and  he  willingly 
obeyed. 

It  was  a  gay  scene,  —  that  merry  group  shooting  down 
Pliny  Hill,  only  to  hasten  up  again  ;■  and  even  so  gay  they 
were  that  they  soon  lost  their  usual  caution  and  became  reck- 
less of  danger. 

"Now,"  said  George,  wild  with  excitement,  "I  'm  going 
to  shoot  my  Arrow  between  those  two  sleighs  coming  up  the 
hill." 

"  0,  don't,  George !  "  cried  Le.  "  I  know  there 's  danger. 
Don't  you  remember  what  I  told  you  this  noon  ?  " 

"Ha!  ha!"  laughed  George;  "  no  danger  forme.  lean 
steer  my  little  Arrow  straight  between  them.  So  here  I  go !  " 
and  he  dashed  away,  with  Harry  Watson  close  behind  him. 

On,  on  he  goes  !  How  well  he  steers.  His  aim  is  true,  and 
smoothly  he  glides  over  the  shiny  way.  Suddenly  he  leaps  a 
stone, —  't  is  only  a  little  one,  —  but  the  Arrow  whirls,  and 
George,  poor  George  !  is  thrown  violently  against  one  of  the 
sleighs  and  his  brains  are  dashed  out !  !  Too  lata  now  for 
Harry  to  turn  or  stop.  He  plunges  on,  and  by  the  sudden 
collision  is  thrown  from  his  sled,  and  one  leg  and  one  arm  is 
broken. 

0,  what  a  sight !  How  the  merry  scene  has  changed  !  Poor 
George  is  taken  senseless  to  his  agonized  parents,  and  Harry 
is  borne  on  a  litter  to  his  afflicted  home. 

George  lingered  in  an  insensible  state  for  two  or  three  days, 
and  then  died.  Harry  endured  much  pain  in  setting  the  two 
broken  limbs,  and  the  long  confinement  that  followed. 


ENDLESS  ROADS.  409 

0  thoughtless  boys !  do  you  not  suppose  Leander  was  now 
glad  that  he  had  so  careful  a  father,  and  that  he  had  so  per- 
severingly  heeded  his  commands  ? 

Both  the  accidents  are  true,  and  we  hope  some  parents  and 
children  may  profit  by  their  occurrence. 


ENDLESS    ROADS. 

TIME  is  endless.  So  is  hope.  So  is  action.  The  lines  of 
life  stretch  further  than  we  think.  "We  lay  our  plans  for 
to-morrow,  and  they  prove  to  be  a  track  that  never  ends.  All 
our  paths  here  go  out  into  the  unseen  world.  They  leap  the 
chasm  between  life  and  eternity,  not  stopping  when  the  body 
gives  out  in  the  long  march,  but  still  reaching  forward  to 
traverse  the  scenes  beyond.  As  you  look  across  the  street, 
the  line  of  your  vision  is  terminated  by  some  building ;  you 
can  see  nothiiig  beyond.  If  that  building  were  away,  you 
could  see  other  houses  and  streets.  If  all  these  were  brushed 
away,  you  wcild  see  the  distant  hills  and  woods.  And  if 
these,  too,  wjre  gone,  the  line  of  your  vision,  unchecked, 
would  shoot  off  alone  to  the  stars,  beyond  the  sun-rising  ;  nor, 
staying  there,  would  push  onward  among  the  farthest  constel- 
lations, overtaking  and  outstripping  the  swiftest  travellers  of 
those  unknown  fields,  till  it  had  reached  the  utmost  verge 
of  the  great  universe,  —  yes,  and  beyond,  into  the  silent  and 
shoreless  expanse,  ever  onward  and  onward,  hastening  after 
and  never  reaching  the  infinite. 

So  the  hopes  of  this  eartlily  life,  its  plans  and  schemes  and 
busy  contrivings,  are  all  endless  lines  that  reach  into  an  end- 
less future.  Within  the  little  circle  of  yourself,  the  plans  you 
make  for  to-morrow,  the  wishes  and  hopes  you  entertain  for 
the  coming  months  and  years,  you  may  not  see  or  realize  how 
far  your  favorite  purposes  stretch  off  into  the  distance.    Does 


410  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

your  vision  stop  with  these  nearest  things,  and  linger  within 
the  narrow  limits  of  these  visible  houses  and  lands,  tliese 
men  and  marts  just  around  jou  ?  Do  you  never  think  how 
they  touch  on  the  margin  of  an  endless  future  ?  Do  you 
never  see  how  all  earthly  things  are  embosomed  in  an  always 
present  eternity  ?  0,  eternity  is  near.  It  is  close  to  us. 
It  is  all  around  us,  like  the  invisible  air  that  envelops  our 
homes.  We  walk  every  day  in  the  embrace  of  eternity.  Its 
light  shines  upon  every  deed  we  do  and  every  step  we  take. 

Which  way  are  we  travelling  ?  Whether  backward  or  for- 
ward, whether  to  the  right  hand  or  to  the  left,  whether  to  the 
cross  or  away  from  it,  our  journey's  end  lies  somewhere  in 
eternity.  The  issue  of  every  purpose  is  there.  The  end  of 
every  plan  is  there.  The  result  of  every  deed  is  there.  Into 
the  fields  of  eternity  are  hurrying  the  footsteps  of  every  man's 
life.     No  path  will  end  this  side. 

Eternity!     Eternity! 
How  long  art  thou,  Eternity ! 
Yet  onward  still  to  thoe  we  speed, 
As  to  the  fight  the  impatient  steed. 
As  ship  to  port,  or  shaft  from  bow, 
Or  swift  as  couriers  homeward  go, 
Mark  well,  0  man !  Eternity. 


BROTHER    GRIMWOOD. 

ND  who  is  tliatf''  asked  my  friend,  whom  I  had  per- 
suaded, somewhat  unwillingly,  to  accompany  me  to 
the  evening  prayer-meeting.  And  as  he  spoke,  he  pointed  to 
a  figure  walking  with  stern,  uncompromising  step  upon  the 
other  side  of  the  street. 

I  hesitated.  We  had  been  having  a  long  talk  upon  life, 
its  responsibilities  and  trials  ;  for  we  had  both  emerged  from 
the  rosy  dreamland  of  youth,  and  knew  but  too  Tsell  that 


BEOTHER   GRIMWOOD.  411 

**  man  is  born  unto  trouble  as  the  sparks  fly  upward."  But  I 
had  been  trying  to  convince  my  somewhat  sceptical  friend 
that  there  were  still  many  happy  hearts  in  the  world,  and 
that,  almost  without  exception,  the  only  truly  cheerful  per- 
sons, who  had  passed  the  season  of  childhood,  were  Chris- 
tians, —  those  who  had  always  the  shadow  of  the  great  Rock 
in  every  weary  land,  and  who,  though  "  the  fig-tree  should 
not  blossom,  nor  fruit  be  in  the  vines,  though  the  fields  should 
yield  no  meat,  and  the  flock  should  be  cut  off  from  the  fold," 
could  yet  "  rejoice  in  the  Lord,  and  joy  in  the  God  of  their 
salvation." 

And  in  the  heat  of  my  argument  I  even  ventured  the 
somewhat  hazardous  statement,  that  I  could  decide  by  glan- 
cing at  the  countenances  of  the  passers,  which  were  those 
whose  minds  were  kept  in  that  "  perfect  peace." 

"  See,"  said  I,  as  Doctor  Freeman  passed,  with  a  blessing 
in  his  kind,  benevolent  eyes.  "  Could  any  one  mistake  that 
face  ?     He  has  seen  great  trouble,  but  he  is  one  of  those 

'  Who  in  every  sharp  affliction  God  hut  nearer  to  him  hrings, 
And  the  darkness  gathering  round  them  is  the  shadow  of  his  wings.* 

"And  that  is  Miss  Faith  B .     '  Her  eyes  are  homes. of 

silent  prayer.'  And  that  earnest  face  belongs  to  young  Mr. 
Goldby  —  "  But  here  my  friend  interrupted  with  the  question, 
"And  who  is  thatf^  pointing  with  inexorable  .finger  to  the 
object  of  interest. 

I  hesitated,  not  that  I  did  not  know  him  ;  who  could  ever 
mistake  "Brother  Grimwood"  ?  But  was  ever  anything  so 
unfortunate  for  my  theory  ?  How  could  I  have  forgotten 
that  the  followers  of  the  Lamb  were  not  yet  all  sealed  in  their 
foreheads?  I  confess  to  being  cowardly,  and  I  began  rap- 
idly,- 

"  As  I  was  saying,  this  young  Mr.  Goldby  —  "  . 

"  But  I  don't  care  for  Mr.  Goldby,  now,"  interrupted  my 
friend.  "  I  want  to  know  who  that  thoroughly  wretched-look- 
ing person  is,  with  those  cold,  lifeless  eyes,  and  that  thin, 
compressed  mouth,  that  looks  as  if  it  ^hut  with  a  snap  like  a 
purse-clasp." 


412  HOUSEHOLD   READING. 

I  still  hesitated,  und  my  friend  continued, — 

"  He  must  have  some  crime  upon  his  soul,  poor  fellow ! 
Perhaps  he  is  some  wretched  Wall-Street  speculator,  who  has 
just  failed,  and  dragged  so  many  down  with  him  that  his 
conscience  is  turned  into  a  sort  of  special  train  with  a  load 
of  ruined  widows  and  orphans.  Or,  has  he  poisoned  any- 
body, or  committed  a  forgery  or  any  other  crime  which  he 
thought  safely  buried,  and  which  threatens  to  rise  from  its 
grave  in  these  grand  resurrectionary  times  ?  or  lastly,"  —  and 
my  friend's  eyes  twinkled  with  the  climax,  —  "  is  he  a  Seces- 
sionist?^^ 

It  was  certainly  growing  no  easier,  and  I  hastily  began, 
"  You  were  never  more  mistaken  in  your  life.  That  is 
Brother  Grimwood,  —  one  of  the  pillars  of  the  Church,  a 
most  excellent  and  devoted  Christian." 

My  friend  started,  and  slightly  smiled. 

"  Yes,"  continued  I,  with  some  warmth,  "  I  wish  we  were 
all  as  sure  of  heaven  as  is  Brother  Grimwood.  He  is  truly 
an  Israelite  without  guile,  and  —  " 

"  Eminently  cheerful^''  suggested  my  friend. 

I  confess  to  being  somewhat  annoyed,  and,  in  the  silence 
that  followed,  I  eagerly,  but  vainly,  ran  over  my  small  stock 
of  argumentative  artillery  to  see  what  could  be  used  in 
Brother  Grimwood's  defence.  I  could  not,  in  truth,  say  that 
he  was  cheerful  or  genial ;  on  the  contrary,  if  I  spoke  at  all,  I 
must  admit  that  he  had  one  of  the  coldest,  most  unsympathiz- 
ing  faces  I  ever  knew.  How,  then,  convince  my  friend  that  he 
was  walking  in  the  "ways  of  pleasantness"?  I  knew  that 
children,  with  their  sure  instinct,  avoided  him,  and  started  in 
fright  if  he  suddenly  addressed  them,  fearing  that  they  had 
been  caught  in  some  contraband  pleasure,  and  having  a  vague 
idea  that  he  considered  them  all  young  reprobates.  Indeed,  I 
knew  one  sensitive  child,  who  during  the  Sabbath  services 
suddenly  burst  into  tears,  and  knew  no  reason,  only  that  she 
had  been  looking  at  Brother  Grimwood's  mouth, — those  stern, 
unloving  lips,  that  seemed  long  since  to  have  forgotten  how 


BROTHER    GRIMWOOD.  413 

to  smile.  And  yet  who  could  doubt  that  Brother  Grimwood 
was  a  Christian  ?  Where  could  we  look  for  more  unflinching 
honesty,  more  patient  self-denial,  more  uncompromising  war- 
fare with  evil,  a  more  relentless,  exacting  conscience,  or  a 
more  earnest  desire  to  spend  and  be  spent  in  the  service  of 
Christ  ?     And  yet,  — 

"  They  say  the  world  has  dealt  harshly  with  him,  and  every 
one  knows  that  he  is  a  lonely  man.  Poor  Brother  Grimwood  ! 
there  were  no  sweet  domestic  ties,  no  small  baby  fingers  to 
carve  more  genial  wrinkles  in  that  thin  face,  and 

'  Eyes  grow  early  cold  and  dim,  which  light  of  love  have  missed, 
And  Patience  weaves  a  ghastly  smile  on  lips  that  ne'er  were  kissed.' " 

Poor  Brother  Grimwood ! 

Filled  with  these  and  kindred  thoughts,  iii  silence  we 
reached  the  church.  They  were  singing,  and,  lo !  as  we  en- 
tered, Brother  Grimwood's  voice  swelled  the  chorus ;  but  he 
sang 

"  Jesus,  lover  of  my  soul," 

with  the  same  tone  and  expression  he  would  bestow  upon 

"  Plunged  in  a  gulf  of  dark  despair." 

After  a  while  he  rose  to  pray,  and  in  a  cold,  monotonous, 
almost  hopeless  voice,  offered  his  petitions.  There  was  much 
about  God's  justice,  and  his  anger  with  sinners,  but  .so  little 
of  his  love  and  mercy.  We  felt  oppressed,  and  almost  de- 
spairing, and,  as  the  last  words  died  away,  with  a  long  sigh  of 
relief  we  turned  to  look  at  Brother  Grimwood.  The  ttern, 
unyielding  mouth  was  again  closed,  as  if  it  could  never  open 
again,  the  cold  eyes  were  shut,  and  the  whole  face  and 
form  motionless  and  rigid  as  an  antique  statue.  And  again 
we  thought,  "  Is  this  truly  one  of  God's  disciples  ?  Are  the 
ministering  spirits  sent  unto  him  in  answer  to  his  prayers  ? 
And  0,  what  do  the  angels  —  'fresh  from  looking  upon 
God  ' — think  of  this  stern,  sad,  unsmiling  brother  ?  And  yet 
he  must  be  a  Christian  "  ;  and  in  vain  speculation  our  minds 
wandered  on. 


414  HOUSEHOLD   READING. 

But,  brother,  if  this  should  chance  to  meet  your  eye,  for- 
give me  for  one  word  more.  You  are  not  yet  called  to  receive 
your  reward,  for  your  work  is  not  finished.  I  know,  that, 
with  sleepless  conscience,  you  are  eager  and  ready  for  that 
work ;  but  do  you  never  think  that  by  your  stern,  forbidding 
face  you  dishonor  that  Master  whose  service  is  joy  ?  You  dis- 
courage the  lambs  of  the  flock,  who  look  up  to  you  for  exam- 
ple and  guidance  ;  for  though  doubtless  you  would  willingly 
give  a  cup  of  cold  water  to  one  of  these  little  ones,  I  do  not 
know  of  one  who  would  have  the  courage  to  ask  you  for  it. 
You  frighten  and  dismay  those  who  are  striving  to  enter  in  at 
the  strait  gate ;  for,  seeing  your  shadowed  brow,  how  should 
they  suspect  that  "  light  is  sown  for  the  righteous,  and  glad- 
ness for  the  upright  in  heart "  ?  And  what  shall  I  say  to  my 
friend,  who,  looking  at  you,  decides  that  this  harvest  must  be 
very  dim  and  uncertain  ? 

Ah,  brother !  if  at  the  coming  of  the  Lord  the  floods  clap 
their  hands,  and  the  hills  rejoice  together,  have  you  no 
streaming  lights  and  banners  of  joy  to  show  to  all  the  world 
that  the  great  King  has  come  unto  you,  and  has  made  a 
"guest-chamber"  of  your  poor,  unworthy  heart? 


HYPOCRISY 


WHEN  men  commend  what  is  virtuous,  lovely,  and  of 
good  report  to  others,  and  indulge  in  vicious  practices 
themselves,  —  when  they  speak  aloud  for  the  honor  of  God, 
and  habitually  tread  his  authority  in  the  dust,  disregard  his 
teachings,  desecrate  his  Sabbaths,  and  treat  the  sanctuary 
with  irreverence,  —  when  they  show  much  love  with  their 
mouth  while  their  heart  goeth  after  covetousness,  and  indulge 
in  evil  surmisings  and  words  of  slander,  —  when  they  pay 
tithes  of  mint,  anise,  and  cummin,  and  omit  the  weightier 


HYPOCRISY.  415 

matters  of  the  law,  giving  to  rites  and  ceremonial  observances 
the  importance  due  only  to  tlie  great  principles  of  evangel- 
ical truth,  —  when  they  boldly  claim  infallibility  for  their 
opinions,  and  sneer  at  the  conscientiousness  that  resists  their 
claims,  —  when  they  advocate  a  religion  of  forms  in  contra- 
distinction to  the  religion  of  the  affections,  and  assume  that 
they  are  the  people,  and  that  wisdom  will  die  with  them,  — 
when  they  hold  firmly  upon  the  traditions  of  the  fathers,  and 
neglect  the  earnest  searching  of  the  Scriptures,  or  even 
subject  their  testimony  to  the  higher  court  of  reason  and 
fancy,  —  they  have  reason  to  judge  themselves,  and  are  not 
injuriously  regarded  by  others,  as  guilty  of  hypocrisy  before 
God. 

Not  a  few  communities  of  greater  or  less  extent,  and  in- 
dividuals without  number,  will  doubtless  recognize  in  one  or 
other  or  all  of  these  specifications  their  own  portraiture. 
Happy  is  the  man  to  whom  none  of  them  belong  ;  for  of  all 
the  beauties  of  human  character,  the  eye  of  God  turns  upon 
none  with  more  complacency  than  upon  sincerity.  Nor  in  any 
one  can  the  falsely  accused  believer  more  innocently  exult, 
when  truthfully  with  an  apostle  he  can  say,  "  In  simplicity 
and  godly  sincerity,  Thave  had  my  conversation  in  the  world." 
But  the  hypocrite  shall  not  come  before  God,  —  his  joy  is  but 
for  a  moment,  —  fearfulness  shall  surprise  him,  —  his  portion 
will  be  assigned  him  where  is  weeping  and  gnashing  of  teeth. 

But  hypocrisy  is  not  confined  to  the  visible  Church.  It 
dwells  in  the  bosoms  of  the  profane  and  the  reckless,  —  nor 
is  it  less  odious  in  its  aspects  when  boasting  of  virtues  grafted 
upon  the  stock  of  infidelity  or  indifference  to  all  religion  than 
when  praying  upon  the  house-tops,  or  blessing  God  at  the 
gate  of  the  temple,  in  the  language  of  the  Pharisee.  "  Thank 
God !  I  am  no  hypocrite,"  says  the  bold  reveller  and  profane 
swearer,  —  "  I  make  no  pretensions  to  religion,  but  am  as  good 
as  the  best  of  those  who  do."  A  more  arrant  hypocrite  lives 
not  on  earth  than  this  same  reviler  of  religion.  Miglit  he  be 
believed,  he  is  more  the  friend  of  God  and  man  than  the  meek 


416  HOUSEHOLD   READING. 

and  lowly  disciple  who  waters  his  couch  with  his  tears,  and 
pours  forth  his  prayers  without  ceasing,  and  devotes  himself 
to  the  active  duties  of  piety  all  the  day  long.  But  he  carries 
a  lie  in  his  right  hand.  With  professions  of  virtue  and 
reverence  for  God  on  his  lips,  he  belches  forth  blasphemy,  and 
yields  himself  a  voluntary  captive  to  the  lust  of  the  flesh,  the 
lust  of  the  eye,  and  the  service  of  the  Devil. 

But  the  hope  of  the  hypocrite  shall  perish  when  God  taketli 
away  his  soul,  whether  he  be  found  within  the  Church  or 
out  of  it.  A.  spider's  web  is  not  more  easily  broken  up.  A 
dream  of  the  night  is  not  more  unsubstantial.  What  though 
he  amuse  himself  with  airy  fancies,  and  lay  the  flattering 
unction  to  his  soul,  that  he  shall  establish  his  vain  preten- 
sions when  summoned  to  the  bar  of  God,  and  impose  on 
Omniscience  as  he  now  imposes  on  himself  or  on  his  fellow- 
men  ?  Disappointment  awaits  him,  doubly  grievous  through 
the  aggravation  of  his  guilt,  arising  from  the  implied  acknowl- 
edgment that  he  knew  what  he  ought  to  be,  —  the  friend  of 
God  and  the  worshipper  of  Jesus,  —  and  that  what  he  ought 
to  be  he  would  have  been  but  for  his  fixed  aversion  to  Divine 
claims.  No  wonder  that  the  hypocrite  and  unbeliever  are 
classed  together  in  the  assignment  of  their  everlasting 
portion.  The  character  of  each  has  the  same  basis,  and 
deserves  the  same  doom. 

The  Christian  is  instructed  to  shun  each  approach  to  this 
offence  against  the  Majesty  of  heaven ;  to  lay  open  his  heart 
freely  to  the  inspection  of  his  own  eye,  and  to  the  cognizance 
of  all  with  whom  he  has  to  do  ;  and  to  pour  forth  the  prayer 
continually,  "  Search  me,  0  God,  and  know  my  heart,  try 
me,  and  know  my  thoughts,  and  lead  me  in  the  way  ever- 
lasting;." 


"ELEONOEA,   A   POOR   SINNER."  417 


"ELEONORA,   A  POOR  SINNER." 

WE  find,  ill  the  darkest  ages  of  the  Church,  many  most 
attractive  examples  of  genuine  piety.  Through  clois- 
tered glooms,  and  the  accumulated  moss  of  superstitions,  we 
see  beaming  forth,  in  many  a  disciple,  the  gentle,  loving,  de- 
voted spirit  of  Christ. 

About  one  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago,  there  was  in  the 
Jieart  of  Germany  a  young  duchess,  residing  in  the  castle  of 
her  father,  Pliilip,  the  Elector  Palatine.  In  early  childhood 
she  became  a  Christian,  an  earnest  and  impassioned  Chris- 
tian, longing  for  the  love  of  God,  and  eager  to  make  any 
sacrifice,  and  to  practise  any  self-denial,  which  she  thought 
would  prove  acceptable  to  him.  Guided  by  the  teachings 
of  her  spiritual  instructors,  who,  though  doubtless  sincere, 
had  engrafted  upon  the  precepts  of  the  Bible  the  traditions 
and  superstitions  of  the  Church,  she  was  taught  to  deprive 
herself  of  almost  every  innocent  gratification,  and  to  prac- 
tise upon  her  fragile  frame  all  the  severities  of  an  anchorite. 
Celibacy  was  especially  commended  to  her  as  a  virtue  pe- 
culiarly grateful  to  God  ;  and  she  consequently  declined  all 
solicitations  for  her  hand. 

Leopold,  the  widowed  Emperor  of  Germany,  sent  a  mag- 
nificent retinue  to  the  palace  of  the  grand  Elector,  and 
claimed  Eleonora  as  his  bride.  It  was  the  most  brilliant 
match  Europe  could  offer.  But  Eleonora,  notwithstanding 
all  the  importunities  of  her  parents,  rejected  the  proffered 
crown.  As  the  Emperor  urged  his  plea,  the  conscientious 
maiden,  that  she  might  render  herself  personally  unattrac- 
tive to  him,  neglected  her  dress,  and  exposed  herself  un- 
bonneted  to  the  sun  and  the  wind.  She  thus  at  length 
succeeded  in  repelling  his  suit,  and  the  Emperor  married 
Claudia  of  the  Tyrol. 

The  Elector  Palatine  was  one  of  the  most  powerful  of  the 

27 


418  HOUSEHOLD   READING. 

minor  princes  of  Europe,  and  his  court,  in  gayety  and  splen- 
dor, rivalled  even  that  of  the  Emperor.  Eleonora  was  com- 
pelled to  present  herself  in  the  gorgeous  saloons  of  her 
father's  palace,  and  to  mingle  with  the  festive  throng  in  all 
their  pageants  of  pleasure.  But  her  heart  was  elsewhere. 
Several  hours  every  day  were  sacredly  devoted  to  prayer 
and  religious  reading.  She  kept  a  minute  journal,  in 
which  she  scrupulously  recorded  and  condemned  her  fail- 
ings. She  visited  the  sick  in  lowly  cottages,  and  with  her 
own  hands  performed  the  most  self-denying  duties  required 
at  the  bedside  of  pain  and  death. 

•  After  the  lapse  of  three  years  Claudia  died,  and  again  the 
widowed  Emperor  sought  the  hand  of  Eleonora.  Her  spirit- 
ual advisers  now  urged  that  it  was  her  duty  to  accept  the 
imperial  alliance,  since,  upon  the  throne,  she  could  render 
herself  so  useful  in  extending  the  influence  of  the  Church. 
Promptly  she  yielded  to  the  voice  of  duty,  and,  charioted  in 
splendor,  was  conveyed  a  bride  to  Vienna.  But  her  Chris- 
tian character  survived  this  fearful  ordeal,  and  remained 
unchanged.  She  carried  the  penance  of  the  cloister  into 
the  voluptuousness  of  the  palace. 

The  imperial  table  was  loaded  with  every  luxury  ;  but  the 
Empress  Eleonora  drank  only  cold  water,  and  ate  of  fare  as 
humble  as  could  be  found  in  any  peasant's  hut.  On  occa- 
sions of  state  it  was  needful  that  she  should  be  dressed  in 
embroidered  robes  of  purple  and  of  gold ;  but  to  prevent  any 
possibility  of  the  risings  of  pride,  her  dress  and  jewelry  were 
so  arranged  with  sharp  brads  pinching  the  flesh  that  she 
was  kept  in  a  state  of  constant  suffering.  Thus  she  endeav- 
ored, while  discharging,  with  the  most  scrupulous  fidelity, 
all  the  duties  of  a  wife  and  an  empress,  to  be  ever  reminded 
that  life  is  but  probation.  These  mistaken  austerities,  which 
were  caused  by  the  darkness  of  the  age  in  which  she  lived, 
will  surely  not  dim  the  lustre  of  her  crown. 

When  Eleonora  attended  the  opera  with  the  Emperor,  she 
took  with  her  the  Psalms  of  David,  bound  to  resemble  the 


THE   WEE-BIT   BAIRN.  419 

books  of  the  performance,  so  that  she  might  unostentatiously 
keep  her  mind  fixed  upon  Divine  things.  For  the  benefit  of 
her  subjects  she  translated  the  Psalms  into  German  verse, 
and  also  translated  into  German  several  other  books  of  a 
devotional  character.  She  survived  her  husband  fifteen 
years,  devoting  herself  with  untiring  self-sacrifice,  through 
all  these  years,  personally  to  the  instruction  of  the  ignorant, 
to  nursing  the  sick,  to  feeding  and  clothing  the  poor.  All 
possible  luxury  she  discarded,  and  endeavored  in  every  re- 
spect to  live  in  imitation  of  her  Saviour,  who  had  not  where 
to  lay  his  head.  Her  death  was  like  the  slumber  of  a  child 
who  sobs  herself  asleep  in  her  mother's  bosom.  At  her  ex- 
press request,  her  funeral  was  without  any  display,  and  she 
directed  that  there  should  be  inscribed  upon  her  tombstone 

simply  the  words :  — 

ELEONORA, 

A  POOR   SINNER, 

Died  January  17,  1720. 


THE    WEB-BIT    BAIRN. 

WE  ha'e  a  wee-bit  bairn  at  hame, ' 
Sae  blithesome,  cannie,  bright, 
That,  ever  syne  the  day  he  came, 
He  's  filled  the  house  wi'  light. 

He  now  is  twa  years  auld,  or  mair, 

A'  glib  o'  tongue  and  foot ; 
He  climbs  up  ilk  a  fatal  stair, 

He  climbs  ilk  cast-ofi"  boot. 

Barefit  he  toddles  roun'  the  streets, 

Wi'  gran'sire  close  behin' ; 
Giving  ilk  person  that  he  meets 

Piece  o'  his  childish  min'. 


420  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

"WTia  kens  the  wee  thing,  what  he  '11  be, 
"When  years  a  score  ha'e  gaun  ! 

Gladding  his  mither's  grateful  e'e, 
Piercing  her  breast  wi'  thorn  ! 

God  gi'e  his  angels  charge  to  keep 
The  bairn ie,  lest  he  stray  ; 

And,  though  in  death  we  fa'  asleep, 
Show  him  the  narrow  way. 


SCIENCE    AND    THE    BIBLE. 

IT  is  a  very  common  idea  among  large  classes  of  men,  that 
the  wonderful  revelations  of  science  in  these  latter  days 
are  tending  all  the  while  to  undermine  the  Bible.  This  senti- 
ment is  most  widely  extended  among  those  who,  in  fact,  know 
very  little  about  the  Word  of  God,  —  who  have  never  made 
the  Scriptures  the  theme  of  study,  and  with  whom  "  the  wish 
is  father  of  the  thought." 

On  the  other  hand,  to  those  who  give  critical  and  careful 
attention  to  the  subject,  it  seems  more  true  than  ever  before 
that  the  Bible  is  the  book  of  God,  because,  though  written 
thousands  of  years  ago,  it  harmonizes  so  beautifully  with  all 
the  real  truth  which  has  been  discovered  in  this  wide  explora- 
tion of  the  fields  of  nature.  Yea,  more  than  this,  its  lan- 
guage, instead  of  being  incongruous  and  discrepant,  was  so 
shaped  and  adjusted  originally  by  Infinite  Wisdom  that  it  re- 
ceives a  grander  and  fuller  meaning  from  all  these  wonderful 
revelations  of  science.  For  example,  a  Jew,  living  before  the 
time  of  Christ,  as  he  read  the  Eighth  Psalm,  and  came  to 
"  When  I  consider  thy  heavens,"  &c.,  would  doubtless  have 
his  soul  lifted  up  with  wonder  at  these  marvellous  works 
of  God  ;  but  to  one  who  reads  them  now,  amid  all  the  light 
which  astronomical   discovery  has   thrown  over  these  vast 


SCIENCE  AND   THE   BIBLE.  421 

iieavenly  spaces,  the  language  is  just  as  harmonious  as  ever, 
while  it  fills  itself  with  a  loftiness  of  meaning,  with  a  grandeur 
of  conception,  unseen  and  unknown  in  the  earlier  days  of  the 
world. 

So,  too,  of  the  first  chapter  of  Genesis.     It  must  have  been 
a  wonderful  and  impressive  chapter  to  men  in  all  ages  of  the 
world  ever  since  Moses  wrote  it ;  but  never  did  these  opening 
verses  sound  out  with  so  full  a  majesty,  with  so  large  and 
comprehensive  meaning,  as  now,  since  astronomy  has   ex- 
plored the  heavens,  and  geology  has  uncovered  the  secrets  of 
the  earth,  and  showed  the  successive  steps  of  God's  creating 
energy.     "  In  the  beginning  God  created  the  heaven  and  the 
earth.     And  the  earth  was  without  form  and  void,  and  dark- 
ness was  upon  the  face  of  the  deep.     And  the  spirit  of  God 
moved  upon  the  face  of  the  waters.     And  God  said.  Let  there 
be  light,  and  there  was  light."     If  our  men  of  science  sup- 
pose that  such  words  as  these  can  ever  be  outlawed,  —  can  be 
rendered  vague  and  meaningless  by  anything  which  they  have 
done  or  can  do,  —  we  venture  to  think  that  they  are  entirely 
mistaken.     Rather  will  all  their  labors  and  discoveries  lend  a 
fuller  force  and  compass  to  these  majestic  words,  as  they  go 
down  the  ages,  and  are  read  by  unborn  generations.     It  is 
true,  in  every  age  of  the  world,  that  men,  in  their  short- 
sighted views  of  things,  are  disposed  to  give  a  technical  and 
narrow  meaning  to  many  of  these  Biblical  passages,  according 
to  the  measure  of  their  knowledge  at  the  time.     Science  often 
breaks  in  upon  this  technical  interpretation,  but  does  not  dis- 
turb the  substance  of  revelation  itself.     This  is  the  perpetual 
wonder  of  this  sacred  book,  and  those  who  watch  carefully 
what  is  going  on  in  this  seeming  conflict  between  science  and 
the  Bible  gather  strength  year  after  year,  and  are  more  and 
more  ready  to  say,  with  devout  confidence,  "  Thy  testimonies 
are  very  sure." 


422  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 


THE    NIGHT    OP    DESPAIR. 

"O  EV.  Mr.  J relates  the  following  very  impressive 

-fl-»^  history  of  a  parishioner.     Jane  B was  a  young 

lady  of  wealthy  parentage,  and  had  all  the  means  of  culture 
and  enjoyment  of  the  world  that  afBuence  and  affection  could 
furnish.  She  was  also  a  child  of  many  prayers.  The  power 
of  "  things  seen  and  temporal "  was  upon  her  spirit  like  a 
spell,  and  her  golden  dreams  were  disturbed  only  by  the  still 
small  voice  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  which  at  times  made  her  weep. 
She  resolutely  stifled  her  convictions.  While  at  a  boarding- 
school,  completing  her  education,  she  was  taken  ill.  No  at- 
tention and  medical  skill  were  spared  to  save  her  from  the 
embrace  of  the  skeleton  destroyer  of  all  things  terrene. 
When  it  was  apparent  that  the  effort  was  vain,  the  physician 
advised  her  removal  home.  She  was  borne  to  the  bosom  of 
domestic  sympathies  and  care.  As  she  crossed  the  threshold, 
and  met  her  mother  with  such  tears  as  she  alone  can  shed, 
the  invalid  exclaimed,  "  Mother,  I  have  come  home  to  die ; 
and  I  am  lost !  I  am  lost  .^ " 

She  continued  to  waste  away,  often  repeating  the  same 
words ;  and  when  only  the  faintest  whisper  could  be  heard, 
it  was  still,  "Jam  lostf^'  In  Virginia,  where  she  lived  and 
died,  the  weather  was  intensely  warm,  which,  with  the  nature 
of  the  disease,  made  it  necessary  to  have  the  burial  the  same 
night.  At  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening  the  procession  moved 
to  the  cemetery.  When  the  coffin  was  lowered,  and  the  light 
of  the  lanterns  fell  into  the  gloom,  the  silence  was  broken  by 
the  sudden  and  convulsive  starting  of  a  sister  of  the  dead, 
who,  stepping  forward  to  the  margin  of  the  grave,  cried,  in 
tones  of  piercing  agony,  as  she  gazed  into  the  narrow  home 
of  the  decaying  body,  "  Jane  is  lost!    Jane  is  lost  .^" 

It  is  not  strange  that  the  good  pastor  should  say,  "  Those 


PKOFESSmG   CHRIST.  423 

accents  of  woe,  ringing  out  upon  the  still  air  of  night,  and 
over  the  place  of  graves,  are  still  in  my  ear,  and  will  be  while 
I  live."  How  true  of  the  impenitent  are  the  words  of  the 
living  Oracles,  "  Madness  is  in  their  hearts,  and  after  that  tJie^ 
go  to  the  dead^ 


PROFESSING    CHRIST. 

THE  Rev.  Dr.  Nettleton  (for  many  years  an  evangelist, 
and  afterward  a  professor  in  the  East  Windsor  Semi- 
nary) was  a  keen  judge  of  human  nature,  and  possessed  a 
rare  faculty  of  "  hitting  the  nail  on  the  head."  Visiting  once 
in  a  quiet  country  town,  his  advice  was  sought  by  the  pastor 
of  the  church  in  that  place  relative  to  a  small  class  in  the  con- 
gregation who  seemed  unreasonably  to  delay  a  public  profes- 
sion of  their  faith  in  Christ, 

"  There  is  Mrs.  D ,"  said  the  pastor ;  "  she  hopes  she  is 

a  Christian,  she  is  very  constant  in  attendance  upon  all  the 
meetings  of  the  church,  but  utterly  declines  to  take  the  vows 
of  God  upon  her." 

"  What  reasons  does  she  give  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Nettleton. 

"  0,  it  is  sometimes  one  thing,  and  sometimes  another," 
was  the  answer.  "  Generally  her  excuses  take  on  the  form 
of  extreme  humility.  —  a  profound  sense  of  her  own  imperfec- 
tions, and  a  strong  fear  of  dishonoring  the  Master  whom  she 
would  profess  to  serve.  I  wish  you  would  talk  with  her, 
Brother  Nettleton  ;  I  confess  to  a  conviction  that  you  would 
succeed  where  I  should  fail.     And  I  am  very  anxious  in  the 

matter ;  for  Mrs.  D occupies  such  a  prominent  position 

in  society,  that  her  influence  is  and  must  be  potent  for  good 
or  evil." 

Mr.  Nettleton  consented  to  the  pastor's  wishes ;  and,  as  he 
had  already  made  the  acquaintance  of  the  lady,  there  was  no 
difficulty  in  finding  a  suitable  time  and  place  for  an  inter- 


424  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

view.     Mrs.  D was  an  intelligent  woman ;  and  so  long 

as  the  conversation  rested  upon  general  religious  topics,  she 
talked  fluently  and  well.  But  as  soon  as  her  visitor  touched 
upon  the  special  subject  which  he  had  come  to  speak  of,  her 
nianner  changed ;  she  became  embarrassed  and  reserved. 

Perceiving  that  she  was  desirous  to  evade  such  a  direction 
of  his  remarks,  Mr.  Nettleton  addressed  her  at  once  with 
great  seriousness. 

"  Mrs.  D ,  you  have  been  speaking  freely  with  me  of 

the  religious  movements  of  the  day,  of  various  plans  for  the 
extension  of  the  Redeemer's  kingdom,  of  the  value  of  the 
Gospel,  and  the  success  of  its  ministers  and  churches.  In  all 
this  talk  you  have  participated  as  one  having  a  personal  in- 
terest in  its  sul)ject,  and  wishing  to  be  identified  with  the 
cause  and  prosperity  of  religion.  In  short,  you  have  in- 
tended to  express  yourself  as  a  Christian.  Why,  then,  do  you 
not  perform  that  clear  and  primary  Christian  duty  of  confess- 
ing your  Saviour  before  men  ?  " 

"  0,  sir,  I  could  not,  —  I  dare  not,  —  I  hope  I  am  a  Chris- 
tian at  heart,  but  —  " 

"  Stop  a  moment,  Mrs.  D ;  remember  that  the  same 

Divine  Word  which  says  '  With  the  heart  man  believeth  unto 
life,'  adds  immediately, '  With  the  mouth  confession  is  made 
unto  salvation.'  Do  not  you  put  asunder  what  God  has  thus 
joined  together  ? " 

"  I  am  so  unworthy,  Mr.  Nettleton." 

"  I  know  you  are,  Mrs.  D ,  and  God  knows  it  better 

than  you  or  I.  But  as  it  is  not  your  worthiness  —  only 
Christ's  —  that  you  are  called  upon  to  profess,  that  should 
not  hinder  your  obedience." 

"  My  life,  sir,  is  so  imperfect,  I  should  be  such  an  inconsist- 
ent professor  as  to  disgrace  myself  and  the  Church;  and 
thus  I  should  become  a  byword  and  reproach.  This  is  my 
strongest  objection."  And  the  rising  tone  and  heightened 
color  showed  that  she  spoke  the  truth. 

"  Well,  we  have  touched  bottom  at  last,"  said  Mr.  Nettle- 


CEAZY   CATHERINE.  425 

ton,  significantly.  "  Your  excuses,  dear  madam,  all  resolve 
themselves  into  that  one  source,  —  pride.  While  professing  a 
very  humble  self-distrust,  you  are  putting  your  own  feelings 
before  Christ's  wishes,  and  your  own  decisions  above  his  com- 
mands. And  beneath  the  plausible  pretence  of  fearing  to 
dishonor  him,  you  are  cloaking  a  sensitiveness  to  the  world's 
reproach  for  yourself,  and  an  unwillingness  to  strive  to  con- 
form your  life  to  a  pure  and  blameless  example.  In  the 
name  of  my  Master,  and  in  the  words  of  his  servant  of  old,  I 
charge  you, '  Repent  of  this  thy  wickedness,  and  pray  God, 
if  perhaps  the  thought  of  thy  heart  may  be  forgiven  thee.'  " 

Mrs.  D was  at  first  confounded  by  this  address,  and 

then  indignant,  muttering  in  an  undertone  "  that  it  was  hard 
to  be  misunderstood  and  slandered  by  one  who  professed  to  be 
a  Christian  and  minister  both,"  she  left  his  presence  at  once. 

The  sequel  showed  that  she  was  rightly  judged.  For 
though  she  was  afterward  coaxed  by  a  clergyman  of  another 
sect  to  join  his  church,  she  nursed  her  pet  sin  till  her  death ; 
and  no  ray  of  Christian  humility  and  faithful  cross-bearing 
ever  illumined  the  darkness  of  her  own  path,  so  far  as  others 
could  see,  or  beamed  to  lead  benighted  souls  to  Christ. 


CRAZY    CATHERINE. 

THEY  tell  me  I  am  not  myself.  They  tell  me  I  am 
strange,  and  sometimes  almost  wild.  I  believe  they  are 
right.  I  am  shattered.  And  I  must  never  feel  hard  toward 
my  cousins  and  my  cousins'  children  if  they  tire  of  me  ;  so  I 
say  to  inyself  whenever  my  head  is  clear  as  it  is  to-day :  but 
at  other  times  I  believe  I  rail  against  their  penuriousness. 
The  good  Lord  forgive  me !  I  have  no  home,  and  nobody 
wants  me,  for  I  can't  be  of  use  to  any  one.  Sometimes  I 
think  the  Lord  would  reward  them  for  taking  me  in,  more 


426  HOUSEHOLD   READING. 

abundantly  than  tliej  would  ask,  if  they  only  did  it  in  a  cheerful 
spirit,  and  then  at  other  times  it  comes  over  me  that  the  Lord 
has  forgotten  all  of  us  together.  Yes,  for  he  has  forgotten  to 
take  me  away  from  the  world.  But  to-day  I  know — for  I  just 
read  it  in  the  good  Book — that  the  dear  Lord  never  forgets. 
But  then  my  mind  has  been  such  a  singular  one.  When  I 
was  a  little  child  I  planned  to  die  at  thirteen.  You  will  think 
it  very  odd,  and  I  suppose  it  was  so.  For  I  have  heard  others 
say  it  never  entered  their  minds,  when  they  were  children, 
that  they  could  die.  I  was  as  positive  of  my  destiny  as 
though  a  leaf  had  been  torn  surreptitiously  out  of  the  great 
book  of  fate  by  my  guardian  angel,  and  given  into  my  hand, 
inscribed  with  the  very  day  of  my  death.  But  when  the 
bonny  chrysanthemums  had  blossomed  thirteen  times,  I  was 
still  going  back  and  forth  from  my  father's  to  the  school-house 
through  the  biting  winds  of  winter,  the  slosh  and  thaw  of 
spring,  and  the  sultry  air  of  summer.  I  was  weak  and  small 
and  melancholy,  but  I  kept  on  living.  I  was  astonished  at 
myself  for  my  bravado ;  but  if  the  pitcher  at  the  fountain 
would  not  break,  nor  the  silver  cord  be  loosed,  what  could  I 
do  ?  Still  there  lay  hidden,  as  I  believed,  somewhere  in  the 
rose-garden  of  my  teens,  the  tender-hearted  angel  who  would 
take  me  up  the  shining  ladder.  Because  beyond  this  garden 
stretched  the  wilderness,  —  the  wilderness  of  maturer  life, 
dark  and  tangled  and  briery,  and  full  of  dreadful  creatures. 
God  never  meant  I  should  walk  through  this  wilderness  ;  else 
why  had  he  made  me  so  tiny,  so  weak,  and  frail,  and  fearful. 

But  still  I  kept  on  living. 

My  twenties  came,  and  the  winds  blew  fiercely  from  that 
same  wilderness,  cutting  through  my  warm  life  like  cold  steel. 
But  I  passed  into  it ;  and  what  befell  me  there  I  shall  not  tell 
you.  But  it  was  a  labyrinth.  I  am  in  it  yet.  There  is  no 
outlet.  One  thing  it  is  well  for  me  to  tell  you.  The  One 
who  appeared  as  "  the  fourth  "  in  the  fiery  furnace  of  the 
Chaldean  king  —  the  One  who  shut  the  fangs  of  the  royal 
lions  in  the  den  where  they  cast  the  prophet  Daniel  —  is  here. 


CRAZY   CATETERINE.  427 

I  hav(!  met  him.  But  he  does  not  let  me  out.  The  arrows 
from  the  quiver  of  disease  stick  fast  in  me ;  there  is  no  rest 
or  refuge  from  them.  But  I  keep  on  living.  I  am  yellow,  and 
wrinkled,  and  mummied.  Vitality  manifests  itself  by  a  slight 
power  of  locomotion,  and  by  the  exquisite  sensitiveness  of  the 
nerves.  The  nerves  are  alive,  —  0  yes ;  but  the  stomach  is 
nearly  dead :  so  is  the  heart.  I  know,  for  they  often  send  up 
telegrams  to  the  brain  that  they  can't  hold  out  much  longer. 
My  soul  is  shut  up  in  a  smoky  glass  case ;  the  green  pastures 
do  not  look  right  to  me ;  the  violets  are  different  from  what 
they  were.  But  I  stumble  on  with  singular  pertinacity.  The 
incidents  I  used  to  enjoy  are  now  to  me  just  about  as  pungent 
as  horseradish  after  the  strength  is  all  gone,  —  all  gone,  mind 
you.  On  some  days  I  am  better.  I  am  like  a  deer  lying 
down  in  the  park.  He  says,  "  I  will  arise,  I  will  shake  my 
lithe  limbs,  I  will  fly  over  the  lawn,  I  will  swim  the  river,  I 
will  toss  my  antlers  on  the  top  of  the  ragged  cliff."  Alas ! 
just  let  him  try.  He  forgets  how  that  tied  to  his  lithe  limbs 
are  immense  weights,  like  the  cannon-balls  the  prisoners 
drag.  My  friends  grew  old.  One  by  one,  with  their  white 
garments  on,  they  went  away, —  they  who  used  to  bear  me  in 
their  arms,  on  whom  I  leaned  heavily.  Yes,  they  have  gone 
away.  The  cousins  and  cousins'  children  cannot  sustain  my 
weight ;  I  keep  the  sunshine  from  them.  But  still  I  live  on. 
I  am  not  old  yet.  0  no.  Had  I  lived  in  the  days  before 
the  flood,  they  would  have  accounted  me  as  an  infant  of  days. 
But  it  is  as  though  the  weight  of  a  hundred  years  held  me 
down  whenever  I  feel  the  stirring  of  the  winged  nature 
within  me.  But  I  live  on.  There  are  reasons  for  it  in  God's 
mind.  I  see  it  clearly  to-day.  God  does  n't  always  tell  us 
his  reasons,  thougli  we  take  him  to  task  if  he  does  n't. 
We  seem  to  think  he  is  like  a  novelist,  bound  to  make  the 
story  of  our  lives  come  out  to  the  reader's  satisfaction,  our- 
selves being  reader.  But  the  book  of  our  history  may  be 
written  out  clear  and  beautiful  to  higher  intellects  than  ours, — 
to  higher  moral  developments,  I  mean.     Ah,  yes.     It  may  be 


428  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

the  angels  see  that  the  mansion  preparing  for  me  by  Christ 
the  Consoler  is  not  yet  perfected,  or  that  I  am  not  yet  ready 
to  be  promoted.  I  kiss  the  hand  ;  He  will  never  wrong  me. 
And  when  you  see  poor  Crazy  Catherine,  remember  it  is  one 
of  His  little  weak  ones. 


HERBERT'S   NEW    YEAR. 

WHEW !  how  the  wind  was  blowing !  Around  the  street 
corners,  rattling  sign-boards,  and  roaring  down  chim- 
neys, and  bearing  upon  its  unseen  wings  millions  of  tiny 
snow-flakes  that  were  weaving  a  shroud  for  the  old  year  to 
lie  down  in. 

"  Would  n't  it  be  fun,  though,  to  travel  about  like  one  of 
these  ?  "  thought  Herbert,  brushing  away  the  melting,  plumy 
particles  of  snow  from  his  face  and  eyes.  Right  on  through 
the  dark  night,  with  its  storm  and  cold,  the  brave  boy  went 
trudging,  intent  upon  an  errand  with  which  hi&  father  had 
intrusted  him. 

The  gas-lamps  winked  and  shook  out  uncertain  flames  of 
light,  at  which  the  spirits  of  the  air  must  secretly  have 
laughed  ;  for  there  still  remained  a  wide  black  roofing  of  sky 
hiding  every  star.  Now  he  entered  a  handsome  street,  bril- 
liant with  gay  shop  windows,  whose  various  stores  were  dis- 
played in  tempting  profusion. 

Herbert  paused  before  a  fashionable  bookstore,  charmed  by 
the  gleaming  array  of  blue  and  purple  and  crimson  volumes, 
edged  and  lettered  with  gold. 

"  0,  if  I  had  money  !  "  whispered  the  boy  to  himself,  "  such 
a  library  as  I  would  collect !  I  should  care  more  for  books 
and  pictures  than  anything  else,  I  think."  And  he  bent 
nearer  an  engraving  lying  just  within  the  window,  —  a  sweet, 


HERBERT'S  NEW  YEAR.  429 

tender  face  with  that  smile  of  lip  and  eye  which  his  dead 
mother's  had  worn.  Several  minutes  passed  as  Herbert  stood 
looking  straight  before  him,  into  the  cloud-land  of  Fancy, 
where  life  must  be  a  very  different  thing  from  his  every-day 
experience  of  the  same. 

At  length,  with  a  start,  he  hurried  on  ;  nor  had  he  gone  far 
when  a  sudden  gust  snatched  the  cap  from  his  curly  head, 
and  sent  it  spinning  down  the  sidewalk,  Herbert  following 
after  in  close  pursuit. 

"  Was  ever  such  a  plague  ?  "  he  cried,  catching  and  set- 
tling it  upon  its  former  perch.  In  stooping  to  regain  the 
cap,  a  paper  parcel  lying  near  attracted  his  attention. 

"  Halloo  !  what 's  this  ?  " 

The  boy  stepped  beneath  a  lamp  to  examine  his  prize  ;  the 
string  confining  it  had  loosened,  and  the  contents  were  slip- 
ping out.     Books  !  new  and  shining  in  holiday  dress. 

"  Is  n't  this  a  windfall  ?  Of  course  in  so  large  a  city  I 
should  never  find  the  owner." 

The  tempter  suggested  this  to  Herbert's  first  thought,  but 
he  was  not  doomed  long  to  remain  in  suspense  as  to  the  right- 
ful claimant ;  turning  it  over,  he  read  upon  the  wrapper  in 
plain  characters,  "  William  Maylie,  Esq,"  —  the  very  mer- 
chant in  whose  store  Herbert  served  as  errand-boy. 

"  Well,  I  have  another  walk  to  take  this  stormy  evening," 
our  hero  reflected,  rather  soberly.  "  I  must  carry  this  to  Mr. 
Maylie's  house  in  Russell  Square  ;  there  is  no  help  for  it ! " 

"  Stop  a  moment,  Herbert,"  pleaded  a  stealthy  voice. 
"  Why  must  you  be  at  so  much  trouble  for  a  bundle  of  books 
which  Mr.  Maylie  can  easily  replace  ?  " 

"  No,  no  !  Herbert,  remember  your  promise  !  "  And  now 
the  tones  were  altered,  and  the  darkness  formed  a  background 
for  the  shining  of  a  pure,  transparent  face,  while  again  his 
mother's  voice  whispered,  "  Remember." 

Then  his  thoughts  went  back  to  the  chamber  where  she 
had  died  ;  with  almost  her  last  breath  enjoining  upon  him  a 
petition  which  should  be  his  shield  from  all  coming  trial ; 


430  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

"  Lead  us  not  into  temptation."  With  this  memory  his 
strength  returned. 

"  Can  I  see  Mr.  Maylie  ? " 

A  rosy-faced,  bright-looking  boy  stood  in  the  vestibule,  as 
the  servant  opened  the  door  of  a  brown-stone  mansion  "  up 
town." 

"  Yes,  I  guess  so,"  answered  the  man  good-naturedly, 
"  though  he  is  vei^y  busy  just  now  ;  come  in  !  " 

Such  a  change  from  the  outer  to  that  inner  world  of 
warmth  and  luxury  !  Herbert  seated  himself  in  a  comforta- 
ble hall-chair,  as  directed,  gazing  about  him  in  a  bewildered 
way.  Why,  this  was  like  the  air-castles  he  had  built,  hour 
after  hour,  lying  in  his  little  low-roofed  chamber,  where  the 
moon  remembered  him  in  her  lonely  track,  and  stopped  to 
make  even  the  dingy  walls  and  clumsy  furniture  beautiful  as 
for  a  king's  palace  !  Soft  carpets  upon  the  floor,  pictures 
and  marble  statuary  looking  down  from  above,  and  through 
two  or  three  half-open  doors  a  glimpse  of  long,  rich,  drawing- 
rooms,  occupied  by  many  people. 

"  This  way,  my  little  man,"  said  the  tall  waiter,  returning, 
and  leading  Herbert  to  another  part  of  the  house.  It  was 
the  library  door  before  which  he  paused,  saying  respectfully 
as  he  threw  it  open,  "  This  is  the  lad,  sir." 

"Ah,  Herbert !  is  it  you  ?  "  Mr.  Maylie  extended  his  hand 
kindly  to  the  boy,  whom  he  had  frequently  noticed  as  being 
active  and  faithful.  "  What  brings  you  out  such  a  terrible 
night  ? " 

"  This,  sir,"  said  Herbert,  handing  the  parcel,  and  explain- 
ing how  he  had  chanced  to  discover  it. 

"  Sure  enough  !  "  exclaimed  the  gentleman,  glancing  at  his 
overcoat  thrown  hastily  upon  a  couch.  "  I  was  obliged  to 
write  some  letters  directly  upon  returning,  and  had  not 
thought  of  my  purchase ;  though,"  he  added,  laughing,  "I 
presume  my  children  would  have  taken  me  severely  to  task 
if  I  had  neglected  it  altogether."  Then,  meeting  the  wishful 
glance  roving  over  his  well-filled  book-shelves,  he  asked,  — 


HERBERT'S  NEW  YEAR.  431 

"  Are  you  fond  of  reading,  my  boy  ?  " 

"  0,  sir,  I  cannot  tell  you  how  I  love  it !  " 

"  And  did  you  not  want  to  keep  these  handsome  vol- 
umes ? "  lifting  them  one  by  one,  —  the  treasures  which  had 
cost  Herbert  so  severe  a  struggle. 

The  keen  yet  kindly  eyes  were  fixed  upon  his,  and  the  boy 
answered,  frankly,  "  Yes,  sir,  very  much." 

"  And  what  prevented  your  doing  so  ?  "  further  inquired 
Mr.  Maylic,  pleased  with  his  straightforward  replies. 

"  The  thought  of  my  dear  mother,"  faltered  Herbert,  after 
a  pause.  "  And  my  prayer,  too,  the  Lord's  Prayer,  you 
know,  '  Lead  us  not  into  temptation.'  " 

Herbert's  gaze  was  fixed  upon  the  carpet:  he  did  not, 
therefore,  perceive  the  shadow  creeping  over  the  face  of  the 
strong  man  before  him,  nor,  if  he  had,  would  he  have  sus- 
pected its  source. 

Only  the  day  before,  a  moment  of  fierce  temptation  had 
beset  this  upright  Christian  merchant ;  and  he,  too,  might 
have  fallen,  but  for  the  restraining  power  of  that  petition. 

"  It  is  a  blessed  prayer,  Herbert,"  said  Mr.  Maylie, 
thoughtfully.  "  I  am  glad  you  have  tested  it  to-night. 
Your  New  Year  is  well  begun !  " 

And  while  our  friend  Herbert  enjoyed  his  treat,  in  the 
cosey  and  quiet  room,  Mr.  Maylie  repeated  to  a  group  of 
eager  listeners  the  history  of  that  night's  struggle  and 
triumph.  Very  small,  perhaps,  beside  the  achievements 
which  are  printed  in  capital  letters  in  every  daily  news- 
paper ;  but  not  small  in  the  view  of  One  who  notes  even 
a  sparrow's  fall. 

"  And,  now,  what  shall  we  give  to  Herbert  for  a  New- 
Year's  present  ?  "  Mr.  Maylie  appealed  to  the  whole,  when 
his  task  was  over. 

"  A  book,  of  course,"  said  one. 

"  Skates !  "  urged  another. 

"  And  I  would  give  him  my  dolly,  with  oyes  that  open 
and   shut,"   put  in  Fanny,  anxiously,   "  only   the   wire   is 


432  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

broken,  and  one  eye  is  always  open  and  the  other  always 
shut !  " 

A  general  laugh  greeted  this  generous  proposal,  and  then 
the  question  was  seriously  discussed. 

"  I  think,"  said  the  father  at  last,  decisively,  "  it  will  be 
best  to  give  Herbert  the  book  now,  and  I  will  see  what  can 
be  done  toward  securing  him  a  situation  where  he  will  be 
able  to  attend  school." 

And  upon  that,  Mr.  Maylie  returned  to  the  library,  fol- 
lowed by  the  pattering  footsteps  of  "  little  Bunch." 

"  Are  you  Herbert  ?  "  asked  the  small  lady,  clasping  her 
tiny  fingers  about  his ;  and,  receiving  a  smiling  assent,  she 
stood  looking  up  at  the  clear,  honest  face,  venturing  once  to 
say,  under  her  breath,  "  You  are  very  pretty !  " 

Meanwhile,  Mr.  Maylie  was  saying,  "  I  hope  this  will 
please  you,  my  boy,"  and  he  laid  before  the  astonished  lad 
a  large  and  handsome  volume,'  on  the  fly-leaf  of  which  was 
written :  — 

"Herbert  R , 


"  A  New- Year's  gift  from  his  friend, 

"William  Maylie." 

No  matter,  now,  if  the  winds  blow  cold,  and  the  snow  has 
deepened  to  a  heavy  matting  upon  the  sidewalks.  With 
light  footsteps  and  lighter  heart,  Herbert  pressed  forward, 
hugging  tightly  to  his  breast  the  precious  gift  so  bravely 
earned.  And  still  in  his  joy  of  possession,  hastening  toward 
home,  a  heavenly  presence  seemed  to  move  beside  him,  and 
his  Saviour's  accents  breathed,  "  Blessed  is  the  man  that  en- 
dureth  temptation." 


BLACKBURN  AND  THE  LAWYER.  433 


BLACKBURN  AND   THE  LAWYER. 

THE  name  of  Gideon  Blackburn  stands  for  a  star  of  the 
first  magnitude  in  the  annals  of  Western  preaching. 
The  writer  "vyell  remembers  his  commanding  figure,  whose 
more  than  six-feet  height  had  acquired  an  additional  stateli- 
ness  and  force  from  the  military  habits  of  his  early  life. 
Stories  are  told  of  his  power  of  painting  in  the  pulpit  such 
scenes  as  the  biting  of  the  fiery  serpents,  the  crucifixion,  the 
final  judgment,  which  equal  anything  that  is  related  of  the 
finest  efibrts  even  of  Whitefield  in  this  particular  line.  The 
following  anecdote  finds  a  place  in  Sprague's  Annals  of  the 
Presbyterians. 

The  Doctor  had  an  appointment  to  preach  at  the  opening 
of  the  Tennessee  Legislature.  A  certain  lawyer  was  one  of 
its  members,  —  a  very  accomplished,  classical,  and  general 
scholar.  He  had  formed  quite  a  contemptuous  opinion  of 
Blackburn  from  hearing  that  he  was  in  the  habit  of  mispro- 
nouncing certain  words,  —  thus, jjoolse,  impoolse^decreptitude  ; 
also,  he  done,  for  "  he  did,"  and  the  like.  The  lawyer  was  sure 
that  Dr.  Blackburn's  popularity  was  a  mere  whim  of  the 
jDublic  mind,  and  resolved  that  he  would  go  to  hear  him  to 
test  critically  his  merits.  Arming  himself  with  pencil  and 
paper,  he  took  his  place  in  the  court-house. 

The  preacher  began  in  his  usual  careless  and  rambling  way, 
dropping  pretty  soon  into  a  fine  illustration  from  Xenophon 
concerning  Cyrus  and  a  captive  prince.  This  rather  disarmed 
the  critic.  Gathering  strength  as  he  advanced,  the  speaker 
now  careered  along  in  his  peculiarly  fascinating  and  majestic 
style.  The  critic  forgot  entirely  his  purpose  in  the  spell  of 
the  hour,  and  when  the  service  was  concluded,  looking  at  his 
note-book,  he  found  this  solitary  memorandum,  "  Brung  for 
brought."  In  telling  this  anecdote  himself  to  a  friend,  he 
laughingly  said,  "  Why,  I  could  not  criticise  him.     Not  that 

28 


434  *  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

he  was  not  vulnerable  enough ;  but  a  man  must  be  a  cold- 
hearted,  mean,  contemptible  creature  to  criticise  such  a  man 
and  such  preaching.  He  that  would  or  could  do  it  would 
criticise  anything,  —  the  falls  of  Niagara,  the  bend  of  the 
rainbow,  or  even  Homer's  Iliad."  This  gentleman  never 
afterwards  failed  to  hear  the  Doctor  whenever  he  could,  but 
with  his  pencil  lying  quietly  in  his  pocket. 


CRADLE    SONG. 


L^ 


ULLABY,  lullaby, 
Baby  must  sleep ; 
Now  when  tke  daylight  dies, 
Closed  be  the  little  eyes  ; 
Rest  till  the  sun  arise, — 
Sleep,  baby,  sleep. 

Lullaby,  lullaby. 

Baby  must  sleep ; 
Peaceful  shall  rest  thy  head ; 
Noiseless  shall  be  the  tread 
Round  our  dear  darling's  bed,  - 

Sleep,  baby,  sleep. 

Lullaby,  lullaby. 

Baby  must  sleep  ; 
No  cause  for  anxious  fears ; 
Not  yet  for  thee  the  years 
When  life  must  have  its  tears. 

Sleep,  baby,  sleep. 

Lullaby,  lullaby. 

Baby  must  sleep ; 
Baby  by  Heaven  blest ! 
Cares  trouble  not  thy  breast ; 
Naught  shall  disturb  thy  rest,  - 

Sleep,  baby,  sleep. 


MAN  NOT   MADE   FOE   PERDITION.  435 

Lullaby,  lullaby, 

Baby  must  sleep ; 
Mother  will  watch  and  pray 
Danger  may  keep  away, 
Until  the  dawn  of  day,— 

Sleep,  baby,  sleep. 

Lullaby,  lullaby, 

Baby  must  sleep ; 
Forms  that  we  cannot  see, 
Loving,  are  watching  thee ; 
Thus  may  it  ever  be ! 

Sleep,  baby,  sleep. 

Lullaby,  lullaby, 

Baby  must  sleep  ; 
God  answers  from  the  skies 
Mother's  fond  prayers  that  rise ; 
Baby  must  close  his  eyes ,  — 

Sleep,  baby,  sleep. 


MAN  NOT  MADE  FOR  PERDITION. 

"  /~^  OD  never  made  a  part  of  his  creatures  to  be  saved,  and 

VJ    a  part  to  be  damned." 

So  one  replied  to  me  to-day,  when  I  inquired  of  him  how 
the  subject  of  religion  stood  with  him,  as  a  practical  matter. 

Pastor.    Are  you,  then,  an  atheist  ? 

Parishioner.   By  no  means. 

Pas.  But  do  you  believe  that  the  Sepoys,  in  India,  have 
been  butchering  women  and  children,  like  fiends  ?  Do  you 
believe  that  murders  have  been  committed  in  Boston  within 
a  month  ? 

Par.    Certainly  I  do. 


436  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

Pas.  My  friend,  this  is  a  sheer  impossibility,  en  your  prin- 
ciple. 

Par.  I  do  not,  by  any  means,  perceive  the  train  of  reason- 
ing that  leads  you  to  such  a  conclusion. 

Pas.  I  must  then  request  you  to  take  up  your  reply  to  my 
inquiry,  and  give  it  some  expansion,  for  it  is  one  of  those  con- 
centrated sophisms  whose  power  to  delude  lies  in  their  brev- 
ity and  in  their  elliptical  form.  When  I  inquired  how  you 
regarded  the  subject  of  religion  as  a  practical  matter,  you 
understood  me  to  inquire  why  you  had  not  complied  with  the 
requirements  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  Your  answer  was, 
"  Why,  I  cannot  believe  that  God  ever  made  a  part  of  his 
creatures  to  save  them,  and  a  part  to  damn  them."  If  you 
will  pardon  me  the  comparison,  this  is  one  of  the  slung-shots 
by  which  impenitent  men  knock  us  down  when  we  come  to 
lead  them  to  Christ.  It  is  multum  m  parvo  ;  a  proposition 
of  vast  dimensions  in  a  few  words.  Whenever  you  strike 
with  it,  you  seem  to  regard  us  as  done  over,  or  "  struck 
dumb."  And  there  is  great  power  in  it,  on  one  condition, — 
that  what  it  impliedly  affirms  is  true.  Its  real  meaning  is 
this  :  since  God  never  made  men  to  destroy  them,  they  will 
all  be  blessed  forever.  And  since  the  goodness  of  God  will 
make  us  all  blessed  without  our  troubling  ourselves  about 
religion,  we  need  not  trouble  ourselves  about  it. 

Par.  Yes,  I  admit  that  is  substantially  the  meaning  of  my 
reply.  But  what  you  meant  by  saying  that  I  must  then  be 
an  atheist,  or  not  believe  that  the  Sepoys,  or  any  one  else, 
had  committed  murder,  I  confess  is  by  no  means  obvious  to 
mo. 

Pas.  Cheerfully  will  I  explain.  Your  argument,  reduced 
to  a  syllogism,  stands  thus  :  — 

A  good  Creator  never  created  any  being  that  suffers  the 
consequences  of  wrong-doing. 

But  God  is  a  good  Creator,  therefore  his  creatures  never 
suffer  the  consequences  of  sin. 

Believing  that  syllogism  in  each  of  its  propositions,  you,  of 


MAN  NOT   MADE  FOR   PERDITION.  437 

counse,  must  disbelieve  either  that  there  is  a  good  Creator,  or 
that  any  of  his  creatures  sin  and  suffer.  If  you  believe  that 
God  is,  and  is  good,  then  all  his  creatures  are  virtuous  and 
happy.  But  if  some  of  them  are  neither  virtuous  nor  happy, 
then  there  is  not  a  benevolent  Creator. 

Par.   I  concede  that  your  reasoning  is  valid. 

Pas.  Yes,  it  is  valid.  And  if  you  will  allow  me  to  pursue 
the  subject,  I  will  direct  your  attention  to  some  other  things 
involved  in  your  reply.  Its  very  form  conceals  a  subtle 
sophism  which  no  honest  mind  would  intentionally  employ, 
and  which,  therefore,  needs  but  to  be  pointed  out  to  any  such 
as  may  have  used  it. 

Par.   Pray,  what  can  that  be  ? 

Pas.  It  is  this :  the  phrase  "  made  his  creatures  to  be 
damned,"  involves  a  proposition  which  may  be  thus  stated:  — 

"  Whatever  any  free  agent  becomes  or  suffers,  that  his 
Creator  had  in  view,  as  an  end,  in  creating  him." 

Now,  it  may  be  that  you  are  prepared  to  accept  that  propo- 
sition when  thus  distinctly  stated.  I  trust  not,  however. 
You  have  employed  it  as  a  convenient  shield  to  defend  your 
conscience  against  the  claims  of  Jesus  Christ,  without  having 
deliberately  and  formally  adopted  it. 

Par.   But  I  do  not  see  how  it  is  involved  in  my  reply. 

Pas.  Your  object  was  to  justify  yourself  in  neglecting  the 
requirements  of  the  Gospel.  And  the  ground  of  justification 
was,  that  you  have  no  need  of  the  promises  of  the  Gospel. 
You  are  to  be  saved,  because  all  men  are  to  be  saved  ;  and  all 
men  are  to  be  saved,  because,  if  any  were  to  perish,  the  very 
fact  of  their  ruin  would  prove  that  God  made  them  to  destroy 
them.  And,  as  that  cannot  be,  they  are  not  to  be  ruined. 
Your  reply  means  that,  or  it  means  nothing.  And,  as  you 
are  too  sensible  a  man  to  utter  unmeaning  phrases,  I  take  it 
as  significant,  and  to  mean  just  that. 

Par.  You  are  right,  although  I  confess  I  never  before  an- 
alyzed the  phrase,  though  I  have  used  it  more  than  once, 
much  as  I  have  to-day. 


438  HOUSEHOLD  EEADING. 

Pan.  Then,  see  what  you  have  done  to-day.  God  called 
you  by  a  fellow-creature  to  repent ;  for  he  uses  human  lips  to 
utter  his  words,  as  he  used  human  hands  to  write  them. 
They  are  his,  whoever  repeats  them.  Your  reply  was  then  to 
God,  and,  if  valid  now,  will  stand  at  the  judgment.  And  I 
will  interpret  it,  and  put  it  in  a  form  that  will  make  its  mean- 
ing still  clearer  to  you.  "  My  God,  I  will  not  repent  of  sin, 
nor  turn  to  seek  thee,  because  thou  art  too  good  to  let  me 
perish,  whether  I  repent  or  not." 

Par.   But  I  was  replying  to  you,  not  to  my  Creator. 

Pas.  You  have  my  view  of  that ;  but  let  it  pass  now.  I 
wish  to  show  you  one  other  aspect  of  your  reply.  Suppose  it 
produces  just  the  effect  you  intended,  —  silences  me,  and 
tranquillizes  yourself,  —  what  have  you  gained  ?  No,  my 
friend  ;*  it  is  a  victory  that  will  cost  you  more  than  you  have 
dreamed  of.  Just  so  far  as  you  were  insincere  in  using  it, 
you  hurt  the  fine  edge  of  your  conscience.  Just  so  far  as  you 
were  sincere,  you  confirmed  yourself  in  atheism.  If  your 
argument  is  sound,  or  if  you  believe  it  to  be  sound,  then 
every  crime  you  hear  of,  and  all  the  remorse  and  misery  con- 
sequent on  crime,  of  which  you  hear,  will  go  to  convince  you 
either  that  God  is  not  good,  or  that,  if  he  is,  he  did  not  create 
man. 

Par.   Where,  then,  is  my  error  ? 

Pas.  In  confounding  God's  intention  with  his  permission. 
If  he  intended  to  create  a  free  agent,  capable  of  being  virtu- 
ous, then  he  vcmsi  permit  him  to  sin,  if  he  chooses  to  sin,  and 
permit  him  to  sufier  the  consequences  of  sin.  But  God  no 
more  created  Judas  in  order  to  destroy  him,  than  he  created 
him  to  betray  the  Son  of  God.  But  he  permitted  him  to  be- 
tray Christ,  to  hang  himself,  and  to  go  "  to  his  own  place." 
Acts  i.  25. 


THE  ANGKY  INQXHEER.  439 


THE    ANGRY    INQUIRER. 

ONE  of  the  first  meetings  for  religious  inquiry.  I  ever  at- 
tended was  conducted,  in  the  absence  of  the  pastor  of 
our  church,  by  the  late  Dr.  Elias  Cornelius.  No  one  who 
ever  saw  or  heard  that  beloved  man  can  easily  forget  him. 
His  symmetrical  figure,  his  beautiful  countenance,  his  im- 
pressive manner,  and,  above  all,  the  earnest  and  pointed  ap- 
peals of  his  sermons  were  fitted,  at  any  time,  to  arrest  and 
fix  attention  in  a  remarkable  degree.  In  a  season  of  general 
revival,  he  seemed  almost  inspired.     At  least  it  was  so  in 

N .     "  Never  man  spake  like  this  man,"  was  upo;i  the 

lips  of  not  a  few  of  his  admiring  hearers.  One  sermon,  in 
particular,  upon  the  words,  "  The  harvest  is  past,  the  sum- 
mer is  ended,  and  we  are  not  saved,"  was  the  means,  it  is 
believed,  of  arousing  the  anxious  attention  of  a  large  num- 
ber of  persons  of  all  ages.  At  a  meeting  for  inquirers,  held 
a  few  hours  after  the  service  in  which  this  sermon  was 
preached,  there  were  present  not  far  from  two  hundred  per- 
sons. 

As  Dr.  Cornelius  desired  to  speak  personally  with  each  one 
of  this  large  number,  he  requested  them,  for  his  own  con- 
venience, to  occupy  seats  on  either  side  of  the  middle  aisle  of 
the  church,  —  those  who  were  indulging  hope  that  they  had 
found  the  Saviour  on  one  side,  and  those  who  were  still  with- 
out hope  on  the  other.  As  he  passed  around,  now  in  one 
pew  and  now  in  another,  making,  in  all  cases,  very  brief  and 
pointed  remarks,  and  in  some  cases  uttering  only  a  single 
sentence  after  receiving  an  answer  to  his  question  concern- 
ing the  particular  case  before  him,  he  came  up  to  a  young 
man  who  had  prided  himself  upon  his  moral,  if  not  mental, 
superiority  to  many,  if  not  most,  of  the  assembled  throng 
around  him.  He  had,  for  many  weeks,  been  more  than 
usually  serious,  had  attended  all  the  meetings  except  those 


440  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

for  conversation,  had  listened  very  respectfully,  and  every 
day  had  even  condescended  to  pray,  though  with  a  very 
feeble  sense  of  his  lost  and  helpless  condition  as  a  sinner ; 
and  even  the  faint  conviction  that  he  had  was  gradually  be- 
coming fainter,  because  it  was  so  intimately  associated  with 
the  delusion  that  he  had  greatly  improved  since  he  began  to 
pray  and  attend  the  meetings.  He  regarded  himself  as 
almost  good  enough  to  go  to  Christ  and  demand  a  pardon 
which  he  had  nearly  paid  for  by  his  excellent  character  and 
seriousness.  Yet,  as  he  had  not  that  peculiar  sense  of  for- 
giveness and  relief  of  which  many  spoke,  he  classed  him- 
self with  those  who  had  no  hope,  though  he  was,  he  had  no 
doubt,  in  a  very  "  hopeful  way." 

Whether  Dr.  Cornelius  read  all  this  fatal  self-deception  in 
the  young  man's  self-complacent  face,  I  never  knew,  but  if 
some  one  had  told  him  all,  he  could  not  have  uttered  two  short 
sentences  more  perfectly  adapted  to  the  case  than  the  two  he 
directed,  like  barbed  arrows,  to  that  young  man's  heart. 
There  was  no  introduction.  The  first  words  were,  "  Why 
are  you  not  a  Christian  ?  "  The  young  man,  having  been, 
up  to  this  moment,  on  such  excellent  terms  with  himself, 
expected  to  be  addressed  in  commendatory  and  comforting 
terms,  and  was  so  disconcerted  by  this  strange  abruptness 
and  apparent  roughness,  that  he  could  not  at  once  suffi- 
ciently compose  himself  to  reply.  With  some  vexation  ex- 
pressed in  his  countenance,  which  the  good  man  evidently 
noticed,  he  paused,  hesitated,  and  while  at  last  he  was  m  the 
act  of  trying  to  stammer  out  something  as  an  answer.  Dr. 
Cornelius  very  quietly  interrupted  him,  exclaiming,  '^  Isee; 
your  own  mouth  condemns  you ! "  and  left  him  to  the 
tumult  of  his  own  thoughts. 

Tlie  young  man  was  mad.  "  Is  this  the  way,"  thought  he, 
"  in  which  Dr.  Cornelius  treats  a  decent  inquirer  ?  Is  an  up- 
right, serious,  praying  young  man  to  be  set  one  side  as  un- 
worthy to  be  talked  with,  or  insulted  as  if  he  were  a  profane 
swearer  and  a  drunkard  ?  " 


MOBNING  MUSINGS.  441 

He  soon  left  the  house  with  a  friend,  whose  experience,  he 
was  not  sorry  to  find,  had  been  similar  to  his  own,  and  to- 
gether they  went  homeward  venting  their  angry  resentment 
of  a  supposed  insult  from  Dr.  Cornelius  in  not  deigning  to 
recognize  the  goodness  that  was  in  them,  and  refusing  even 
to  stop  and  talk  with  them,  though  he  gave  a  special  atten- 
tion to  others  whose  character  had,  as  they  thought,  far  in- 
ferior claims  upon  his  respectful  notice. 

It  need  only  be  added,  that  that  was  a  dreadful  night  to  the 
young  man.  His  anger  had  reached  a  point  very  unusual  in 
his  experience,  and  as  he  retired  to  his  room  and  found  him- 
self alone,  he  was  filled  with  horror  at  the  thought  of  what 
he  had  said  and  felt.  Conviction  seized  upon  him  as  never 
before.  Sleep  departed  from  him.  For  twenty-four  hours  his 
soul  was  in  an  agony,  from  which  he  found  relief  at  length 
only  by  surrendering  himself  as  a  lost,  guilty,  and  helpless 
sinner  to  Christ  as  the  Saviour  of  only  such  as  he.  And  to 
this  day,  the  memory  of  no  minister  of  Christ  is  so  dear  to 
that  young  man,  —  now  himself  a  minister  of  Christ,  —  as 
that  of  Elias  Cornelius,  with  whom  he  was  once  so  angry. 


MORNING    MUSINGS. 

I  "WENT  into  my  study  quite  early  this  morning,  before  it 
was  light.  There  was  only  the  faintest  streak  along  the 
east,  —  enough  to  teach  a  watchful  eye  to  recognize  that  point 
of  the  compass.  My  fire  had  burned  out,  and  the  cold  ashes 
and  brands  were  lying  as  they  had  been  left  the  night  be- 
fore ;  and  as  the  blue  light  of  the  match  that  I  kindled  re- 
vealed, under  its  dim  glare,  the  dead  embers,  the  straggling 
chairs,  and  the  scattered  books  and  papers  upon  the  table,  a 
sense  of  chilliness,  lifelessness,  and  desertion  came  over  me, 


442  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

even  there  in  my  study.  However,  I  lighted  a  lamp, — 
shading  it  behind  a  quarto,  —  opened  a  window  for  the  fresh 
air,  kindled  my  fire,  put  out  the  light,  ate  my  morning  crust, 
and  stowed  myself  within  the  ample  embraces  of  my  large 
arm-chair. 

By  this  time,  the  streak  in  the  east  had  grown  broader 
and  brighter.  How  still  it  was !  Scarcely  a  sound  was  to 
be  heard,  save  the  far-off  roaring  of  the  southeast  bar,  dis- 
tant, certainly,  not  less  than  nine  miles.  The  deep  presence 
seemed  to  fill  all  that  quarter  of  the  horizon.  The  light 
grew  broader  yet;  the  clouds  reddened;  the  leaden  masses 
above  began  to  glow  ;  and  golden  glory  tipped  the  edges  and 
the  points  of  those  lowest  down ;  various  noises  had  already 
begun  to  make  themselves  heard ;  the  wide,  dim  landscape 
had  come  out  bolder  and  bolder ;  the  hill-tops  were  suffused ; 
the  river  caught  the  colors  ;  up  comes  the  red  sun,  —  what  a 
glorious,  peaceful  scene.  How  full  of  strength  and  hope  is 
the  morning !  Steadily  the  light  comes  on  ;  the  clouds  and 
the  darkness  strive  to  bar  its  progress,  in  vain.  It  comes,  it 
triumphs,  it  brings  the  day,  it  awakens  the  world. 

As  I  sat  there,  I  felt  thankful  for  my  pleasant  home, — 
that  it  gave  me  so  glorious  a  scene  and  so  grand  a  sound ; 
that  I  lived  where  so  much  of  earth  could  be  taken  in  at  one 
glance  of  the  eye,  and  so  much  of  the  heavens ;  that  so 
many  hills,  such  broad  meadows,  with  their  crooked  rivers, 
the  distant  sand-hills  by  the  sea,  the  ocean  beyond,  were 
present  to  me  there.  I  thanked  God,  and  rejoiced.  Then  I 
thought  within  myself.  But  how  many  noble  homes  there 
are  in  this  land ;  how  many  pleasant  houses  by  the  Atlantic, 
how  many  more  are  to  be  by  the  Pacific  shores ;  how  many 
stately,  delightful  mansions  in  the  cities ;  how  many  charm- 
ing villas  in  their  neighborhood,  or  along  the  margins  of 
wide  rivers,  or  looking  out  upon  the  lakes  or  tlie  prairies ; 
how  many  farm-houses  on  smooth  hillsides,  in  sunny  val- 
leys, amid  broad,  green  slopes.  I  thought  also  of  the  beauty 
and  the   happiness  there   will  be  in   this  land,   when    its 


MOKNING  MUSINGS.  443 

wonderful  expanse  is  full  of  Christian  people  (as  I  hope  it 
will  be)  ;  when  even  those  little  garden  dells,  shut  in  anlong 
the  salt  and  stony  deserts  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  shall  be 
dwelt  in,  —  white  cottages  among  their  thickets ;  children 
prattling  by  their  fountains,  among  the  flowers  ;  lovers  stray- 
ing at  sundown  along  the  peaks  and  the  ridges ;  parents  in 
arm-chairs,  watching  the  fading  summer  glow  upon  topmost 
summits ;  church-bells  solemnly  calling  the  living  to  the 
house  of  prayer,  or  tolling  that  same  unchanged  requiem  for 
the  dead.  I  was  glad,  as  I  thought  of  the  noble  and  lovely 
homes  of  this  land ;  and  that  so  many  eyes  would  be  made 
joyful  and  peaceful  in  contemplating  their  beauty,  and  so 
many  souls  would  be  enriched  by  the  glory  and  the  loveli- 
ness all  about  them.  The  rich  cannot  take  all  this  wealth  to 
themselves.  A  great  many  houses  can  be  built  along  sea- 
sides and  mountain-sides,  in  the  valleys  and  on  the  prairies, 
—  more  than  the  rich  and  the  great  can  live  in ;  unless  all 
the  people  are  rich  or  great.  There  is  too  much  of  this 
glorious  land  and  water  for  a  monopoly.  God  made  the 
continent  for  the  people  ;  and  theirs  it  shall  be. 

I  turned  to  my  study-table  ;  and  a  newspaper,  with  a  piece 
of  verse  in  it,  caught  my  eye.  It  was  headed,  "  The  Invita- 
tion corrected,"  and  began :  — 

Not  "  as  thou  art,  without  one  trace 
Of  love,  or  joy,  or  inward  grace, 
Or  meetness  for  the  heavenly  place, 
O  guilty  sinner,  come." 

Further  down,  came  the  following  lines :  — 

"  'T  was  yor  the  sheep  the  shepherd  died. 
The  bridegroom  suffered  for  the  bride, 
The  number  '  given,'  and  none  beside." 

I  do  not  know  whether  my  previous  meditations  had  any- 
thing to  do  with  it,  but  these  lines  filled  me  with  peculiar 
disgust  and  sorrow.  I  thought  of  the  Saviour's  "  Come  unto 
me,  ALL  ye  that  are  weary  and  heavy  laden."  I  remem- 
bered here,  "  the  Spirit  and  the  Bride  say,  Come."  Whoso- 
ever willy  let  him  take  of  the  water  of  life  freely."     What  a 


444  HOUSEHOLD   BEADING. 

different  key  note  have  we  here  !  The  generosity  of  Nature, 
and  the  loving-kindness  of  the  Bible,  are  attuned  to  each 
other.  Both  are  large-hearted  and  full.  The  breath  of 
Heaven  flows  through  both,  and  God's  own  "  holy  light " 
floods  both.  But  there  is  a  theology  which  is  akin  to  neither, 
—  born  by  lamp-light,  a  spiritual  dyspepsia,  acrid,  sensitive, 
timid,  and  exclusive. 

So  I  was  thinking,  as  I  sat  by  my  Bible,  the  glorious 
spring  morning  at  my  back ;  a  tap  at  my  door  reminded  me 
that  musings  and  mornings  come  to  an  end,  —  it  was  break- 
fast-time. 


HEAT  WITHIN  AIDS  HEAT  WITHOUT. 

A  CURIOUS  and  interesting  paper  was  read  last  August 
at  the  annual  meeting  of  the  American  Association  for 
the  Advancement  of  Science,  which  contained  some  singular 
statements  respecting  the  effects  produced  by  the  rays  of  the 
sun.  It  stated,  as  the  result  of  many  careful  observations, 
that  the  effect  of  the  solar  ray  in  elevating  temperature  varies 
with  the  temperature  of  the  atmosphere  enveloping  the  body 
on  which  the  ray  falls.  In  winter,  if  the  sun  shining  di- 
rectly on  the  blackened  ball  of  a  thermometer  outside  of  the 
window  raises  the  mercury  twenty  degrees,  it  might  at  the 
very  same  moment  raise  the  mercury  of  a  thermometer  in  a 
warm  room  forty  degrees  above  the  temperature  of  surround- 
ing objects  in  the  shade.  And  the  greater  the  heat  of  the 
room,  the  greater  the  heat-dispensing  powers  of  the  sun.  So 
that  the  rays,  which  passing  through  a  cold  medium  have  lit- 
tle power  to  work  a  change,  seem  to  acquire  new  energy  the 
moment  they  enter  a  heated  apartment.  And  so,  perhaps,  the 
greatest  effect  might  be  attained  by  pouring  the  sun's  rays 
through  a  lens  upon  a  heated  furnace. 


HEAT   WITHIN  AIDS  HEAT   WITHOUT.  445 

This  law  of  heat,  though  not  yet  fully  ascertained,  must 
have  an  important  connection  with  many  facts  relating  to 
climate,  vegetation,  the  melting  of  snow,  and  the  breaking  up 
of  frozen  streams.  We  have  referred  to  it  as  illustrative  of 
some  spiritual  truths. 

It  seems  to  be  in  harmony  with  the  law  of  God's  provi- 
dence, "  Whosoever  hath,  to  him  shall  be  given,  and  he  shall 
have  more  abundance." 

We  believe  that  those  who  receive  the  most  benefit  from 
the  ordinary  services  of  the  house  of  God  are  they  who  go 
there  with  the  best  preparation  of  heart.  If  the  prayer-meet- 
ing is  one  of  unusual  interest  and  fervor,  it  is  because  prayer 
was  offered  beforehand.  If  a  fast-day,  intercalated  among 
days  of  business,  brings  the  soul  to  realize  its  condition,  its 
wants,  and  its  refuge,  this  result  will  be  due  partly  to  its  pre- 
vious exercises.  The  pharisee  and  the  publican  went  up  to 
the  temple  at  the  same  hour  ;  they  both  went  to  pray ;  they 
appeared  before  the  same  God  ;  but  how  much  the  antecedent 
state  of  each  had  to  do  with  the  acceptance  of  one  rather  than 
the  other ! 

How  much  depends  upon  a  preparation  to  receive  a  bless- 
ing from  God  !  When  a  church  is  quickened  and  revived, 
the  obstacles  to  the  Spirit's  work  are  partly  removed,  and 
means  of  grace  are  clothed  with  power  that  before  seemed 
to  be  ineffectual.  A  pastor  preaches  a  sermon,  and  it  is  for- 
gotten as  a  thing  of  no  account.  He  repeats  it  a  year  or  two 
after  in  a  revival,  and  it  takes  hold  upon  hearts  that  heard  it 
once  unmoved.  He  gives  utterance  to  some  commonplace 
truth  in  certain  states  of  religious  emotion,  and  the  effect  is 
overpowering.  We  have  the  same  Gospel  all  the  year  round ; 
its  effects,  how  varying  ! 

When  Jesus  visits  his  people,  they  should  arrange  to  receive 
and  welcome  him.  Better  to  sit  at  his  feet  like  Mary,  than, 
like  her  sister,  to  be  troubled  about  many  things. 


446  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 


PAY   THAT    THOU    OWEST. 

STRICT  honesty,  it  is  to  be  feared,  is  fast  becoming  a  vir- 
tue possessed  by  but  few,  even  of  those  who  would  mar- 
vel greatly  to  learn  that  they  are  suspected  by  any  as  swerv- 
ing from  a  course  strictly  upright.  We  have  been  accustomed 
to  believe  that  for  a  pupil  in  school  to  take  a  pencil  belonging 
to  one  of  his  fellows,  without  the  knowledge  or  against  the 
wish  of  the  owner,  is  just  as  really  dishonest  and  sinful  as 
would  be  the  taking,  in  the  same  manner,  of  one  dollar  or 
ten ;  and  we  see  not  why  the  same  principle  does  not  hold 
true  with  children  of  a  larger  growth.  We  confess  that  we 
are  surprised  and  confounded  at  the  want  of  uprightness 
and  the  dishonesty  now  prevailing  in  the  community,  and 
too  often  even  among  those  who  profess  to  square  their  con- 
duct by  the  Word  of  God. 

The  following  illustrations  will  serve  to  make  our  meaning 
and  the  importance  of  the  subject  more  apparent.  A  man 
fails  in  business,  it  may  be  through  unavoidable  misfortune. 
He  is  indebted  in  various  sums  from  one  to  five  hundred  dol- 
lars, to  those  who  have  been  in  his  employ,  who,  in  conse- 
quence, are  made  to  feel  the  sharp  pinchings  of  poverty.  The 
dress  for  the  mother,  the  shoes  for  the  little  ones,  and  the 
more  convenient  household  furniture,  are  but  specimens  of 
articles  that  must  be  given  up,  so  that,  perchance,  by  sparing 
and  squeezing  economy  the  poor  man's  honest  debts  may  be 
paid.  Meantime  the  employer  has  obtained  a  discharge  from 
his  creditors,  and  has  again  engaged  in  business,  through  the 
assistance  of  friends.  In  a  few  years  he  accumulates  a  hand- 
some fortune,  and  thereafter  lives  in  a  style  of  elegance  and 
luxury.  His  old  creditors  struggle  on  in  their  poverty,  he 
not  acknowledging  their  claim  upon  him,  because,  forsooth, 
he  has  got  his  discharge.  Has  Crod,  or  has  his  own  conscience, 
given  him  a  discharge  ? 


PAY  THAT  THOU  OWEST.  447 

A  young  lady  engaged  passage  from  one  town  to  another 
in  a  stage-coach,  the  driver  agreeing  to  call  for  her.  He  for- 
got to  do  this,  but  his  partner,  learning  the  fact,  secured  a 
carriage  and  drove  in  haste  after  the  stage,  overtaking  it  and 
putting  her  aboard,  after  a  hard  ride  of  several  miles.  It  was 
customary  to  take  the  fares  at  the  commencement  of  the 
route,  and  they  had  accordingly  been  collected  when  she  got 
into  the  stage  ;  consequently,  in  the  haste  of  the  transfer  and 
the  excitement  of  the  ride,  the  fare  was  forgotten  by  both 
parties,  and  the  mistake  did  not  occur  to  the  young  lady  till 
she  had  reached  a  distant  town,  from  which  she  took  an  early 
opportunity  to  remit  the  amount  due.  Who  believes  that  she 
might  have  neglected  this  remittance  with  any  just  claim  to 
honesty  ?  Yet,  in  a  case  so  clear  as  this  she  was  laughed  at, 
even  by  professing  Christians,  for  her  "  scruples,"  in  sending 
back  the  money,  "  which  it  was  the  driver's  business  to  look 
out  for,"  as  it  was  remarked  ;  as  though  the  honesty  of  his 
passengers  was  a  responsibility  for  which  he  would  be  called 
to  account. 

A  man  failed  in  business,  paying  not  ten  cents  on  a  dollar, 
and  yet,  for  several  months,  while  his  discharge  was  pending, 
and  his  affairs  were  in  process  of  settlement,  he  made  free 
use  of  elegant  clothing,  replenishing  his  own  and  his  wife's 
wardrobe  at  will  with  the  choicest  of  silks  and  broadcloths, 
displaying  numerous  luxuries,  while  many  of  his  creditors 
were  obliged  to  exercise  the  strictest  economy,  both  in  respect 
to  their  table  and  their  wardrobe,  —  an  economy  rendered,  of 
course,  more  necessary  by  the  anticipated  settlement  at  less 
than  ten  cents  on  a  dollar.  If  tested  by  God's  law,  could 
this  be  called  honest  ? 

A  man  borrowed  of  a  friend  twenty-five  dollars,  on  the 
express  condition  that  it  should  be  returned  in  a  few  days. 
The  lender  not  receiving  it,  in  due  time  called  on  the  bor- 
rower, reminding  him  of  his  promise  and  requesting  payment, 
but  it  was  "  not  convenient "  that  day  ;  he  would  "  pay  soon." 
Thus  it  went  on  several  months,  the  lender,  to  whom  a  small 


448  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

sum  was  not  of  small  consequence,  having  frequent  occasion 
to  use  it,  —  in  fact,  seyeral  times  having  great  need  of  it,  — 
■while  the  borrower,  as  it  afterwards  appeared,  expended 
during  this  period  several  times  the  amount  due,  in  the  luxu- 
ries and  not  the  necessaries  of  life.  Did  he  keep  the  com- 
mand to  deal  justly  ? 

The  above  cases  are  not  imaginary  ones,  but  are  each  sub- 
stantially true  ;  and  the  fact  that  all  the  parties  mentioned 
are  professors  of  religion  invests  them  with  a  painful  interest. 
Is  there  not  a  great  deficiency  in  the  training  of  children, 
especially  by  example,  on  this  all-important  subject  ?  and  do 
not  our  churches  need  to  be  newly  indoctrinated  in  the  first 
principles  of  honesty  ? 


SCENE    ON    MOUNT    WASHINGTON. 

LET  me  write  for  the  readers  of  the  "  Congregationalist," 
while  it  is  fresh  in  mind,  the  description  which  a  cultivat- 
ed and  enthusiastic  physician  has  this  morning  been  giving 
me,  of  twenty-four  hours  on  the  top  of  Mount  "Washington. 
It  shows  what  may  sometimes  be  found  there  under  the 
most  unpromising  appearances. 

My  friend  has  made  the  ascent  between  twenty  and  thirty 
times,  but  has  never  seen  the  equal  of  this.  Here,  therefore, 
may  be  seen  the  explanation  of  the  great  variety,  not  to  say 
contradiction,  of  experiences  detailed  respecting  a  visit  to  this 
airy  summit. 

Our  party  went  up  on  Wednesday  last  (September  5, 1866). 
Arrived  above,  in  the  afternoon,  they  were  supposed,  by 
spectators  at  the  Glen  House,  to  be  completely  enveloped  in 
mists,  which  alone  they  could  see.  But,  in  truth,  they  were 
entirely  above  the  mists,  looking  down  from  their  lofty  zone  of 
sunlight  on  brilliantly  illuminated  clouds. 


SCENE    ON   MOUNT    WASHINGTON.  449 

Now  appears  the  wonder  and  the  glory.  This  mass  of 
cloud-land  becomes  a  perfect  mirror ;  and  the  sun  being  at 
just  the  right  height,  the  whole  peak  of  Mount  "Washington  is 
reflected  in  it  so  distinctly  that  it  seems  as  if  it  might  be 
photographed  from  its  clear  image  on  the  bosom  of  the  cloud  ! 

This  passes  away,  and  then  returns ;  and  in  the  interval, 
the  most  delicate  tints  of  many  hues  come  and  go,  wavering 
and  playing  with  tremulous  light.  At  length,  the  sun  goes 
down,  plunging  into  an  ocean  of  fogs.  The  wind  rises  and 
blows  furiously,  sweeping  and  screaming  all  night  across  the 
heights.  My  informant  thought  he  had  heard  and  felt  the 
wind  when  rounding  Cape  Horn,  and  in  other  parts  of 
the  ocean,  but  never  as  on  this  night. 

Next  morning,  up  at  half  past  four  o'clock.  A  faint  hint 
of  sunrise  through  volumes  of  driving  mists.  The  rest  of  the 
company,  after  breakfast,  wet  with  the  damps,  the  mercury  at 
thirty-five  degrees,  and  the  winds  still  implacable,  determine 
that  the  show  is  over,  and  set  their  hearts  on  a  return  to  lowlier 
places.  The  doctor  tries  to  dissuade  them  and  induce  a  few 
hours  waiting,  tilling  them,  "  Who  knows  but  they  may  yet 
get  a  glimpse  of  the  ocean  ?  "  — laughingly,  —  a  feat  he  had 
himself  never  uicceeded  in  accomplishing,  in  his  more  than 
twenty  visits.  They  had  been  gone  not  an  hour  when  the 
sun  broke  grandly  out.  Sebago  Lake,  twenty  miles  from 
Portland,  comes  out  in  fine  relief.  "  And  what  is  that  great 
shining  mass  beyond  ?  "     "  That  is  the  Atlantic  Ocean  !  " 

There  it  lies  sparkling  in  the  gleam,  no  narrow  line,  but  a 
broad  expanse  glittering,  eighty  miles  off,  before  your  eye  as 
plainly  as  if  it  were  under  your  feet !  And  now  it  closes  in 
again ;  and  now  comes  back.  Six  separate  times  on  that 
memorable  forenoon  did  the  magnificent  ocean  rise  on  their 
delighted  gaze ! 


29 


450  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 


CHARLEY  GREY'S  DREAM. 

CHARLEY  GREY  was  gazing  out  of  the  school-room  win- 
dow one  sultry  afternoon,  with  his  el])ow  on  his  desk,  his 
head  resting  on  his  hand.  His  book  was  open  before  him,  but 
his  eyes  did  not  rest  upon  it.  Instead  of  that,  they  wandered 
wearily  over  hill  and  brook,  wood  and  field,  now  toward  the 
flocks  of  sheep  and  lambs  that  were  cropping  the  grass  on  the 
hillside,  now  toward  the  brook  as  Charley  dreamily  thought 
of  the  bright  little  fishes  that  were  sparkling  in  its  cool 
depths.  "Watching  for  a  moment  the  calm  flight  of  a  hawk 
which,  with  scarce  a  motion  of  its  great  wings,  was  hovering 
over  the  tops  of  the  trees,  and  then  looking  listlessly  at  the 
cows  lying  in  the  shade. 

As  he  sat  sleepily  there,  the  idea  came  slowly  into  Char- 
ley's idle  mind,  that  his  would  have  been  a  happier  life  had 
he  been  born  a  beast,  a  fish,  or  a  bird,  instead  of  a  boy,  to  be 
sent  to  school  and  compelled  to  learn  long  lessons  in  July. 

"  I  would  rather,"  thought  Charley,  as  he  yawned  and 
closed  his  eyes,  —  "I  would  much  rather  be  a  calf  lying  in 
the  shade  of  the  acorn-tree  yonder  tlian  the  first  boy  in  my 
class." 

Wonderfully  enough,  a  sudden  and  surprising  change 
came  over  Charley  Grey.  The  school-room,  witli  its  slug- 
gish drone  and  confined  air,  melted  imperceptibly  away. 
There  was  a  moment  of  darkness,  and  Charley  found  him- 
self lying  under  the  acorn-tree.  His  wishes  had  been  real- 
ized. He  would  be  a  calf,  and  a  calf  he  was.  His  astonish- 
ment and  alarm  were  but  for  a  moment.  All  was  then  over, 
his  past  life  forgotten.  He  remembered  nothing  about  his 
home,  friends,  school-boy  life,  or  his  wish  so  wonderfully 
gratified. 

For  any  knowledge  of  the  past  which  his  calf  s  head  con- 
tained, he  might  have  been  born  in  the  stable  and  hred  in 


CHARLEY  GREY'S  DREAM.  451 

the  fields.  He  was  happy,  the  shady  ground  was  delight- 
fully cool,  the  fragrance  of  the  fresh  grass  was  to  him  most 
grateful  perfume.  With  half-closed  eyes,  he  was  rolling  on 
his  tongue  a  delicious  morsel,  in  comparison  with  which  the 
delicacies  a  school-boy  covets  are  but  as  dry  crusts  to  Christ- 
mas puddings. 

"While  in  the  full  tide  of  his  quiet  enjoyment,  a  brother 
calf  who  had  been  lying  by  his  side  slowly  rose  and  stood 
upon  his  feet.  Charley  (we  call  the  calf  by  the  school-boy's 
name)  languidly  opened  his  eyes  and  stared  stupidly  at  his 
risen  brother.  Something  told  him  that  brother  was  in- 
clined to  vary  the  monotony  of  the  occasion.  He  tossed  his 
head  and  wagged  his  tail  with  looks  of  mischief.  In  lan- 
guage which  Charley  well  understood,  he  bade  him  admire 
his  strong  neck  and  horns,  and  invited  him  to  a  trial  of 
strength.  Finally,  with  drooping  head,  he  rushed  upon  the 
prostrate  Charley  and  gave  him  a  furious  lunge  in  the  side. 
This  brought  the  calf  Charley  to  his  feet.  Bellowing  with 
rage  and  pain,  he  rushed  to  meet  his  adversary.  It  was  a 
fierce  combat.  Charley's  antagonist  was  older  than  he, 
larger  and  stronger.  It  was  an  unequal  contest,  yet  Char- 
ley's rage  and  courage  compelled  him  to  keep  the  field.  It 
was  not  long,  however,  before  his  strength  began  to  fail ;  hot, 
fatigued,  and  bleeding,  he  was  about  to  yield  the  battle,  ' 
when  it  met  with  an  unexpected  interruption.  An  old  cow 
with  long  sharp  horns,  who  had  been  regarding  the  affray  with 
evident  dissatisfaction,  now  determined  to  put  an  end  to  it. 

She  advanced  quickly  toward  the  combatants.  Acting 
upon  a  principle  said  to  be  occasionally  practised  by  mankind, 
she  singled  out  the  weakest  of  the  two  as  an  object  of  punish- 
ment. 

"When  Charley  saw  this  new  and  terrible  enemy  approAch- 
ing,  he  instantly  took  to  his  heels ;  the  cow  with  the  sharp  horns 
gave  chase.  Exhausted  as  he  was  by  his  battle,  she  gained 
rapidly  upon  him.  Every  moment  he  expected  to  be  caiight 
on  those  sharp  horns,  and  sent  whirling  througli  the  air. 


452  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

Just  then  a  little  bird,  which  had  been  seeking  worms  in 
the  pasture,  frightened  at  the  approach  of  the  beasts,  flew  into 
the  air,  and  was  quickly  out  of  the  reach  of  harm. 

Then  the  calf  Charley  thought,  "  0  that  I  were  a  bird,  that 
I  might  fly  from  this  terrible  pursuer.  The  wish  was  scarcely 
formed,  when,  lo!  —  there  were  certain  powerful  and  pro- 
pitious fairies  controlling  Charley's  destinies,  —  the  calf  be- 
came a  bird.  The  cow  had  just  bent  her  neck,  and  pointed 
her  sharp  horns  to  give  Charley  the  fatal  toss,  when  the  latter, 
transformed  into  a  beautiful  bird  with  gilded  wings,  rose 
lightly  into  the  air.  He  saw  the  cow  in  her  headlong  course 
shatter  her  horns  against  a  wall,  and  then  soaring  lightly,  and, 
singing  gayly,  he  reached  the  neighboring  wood.  Scarcely 
had  he  congratulated  himself  upon  his  escape,  when  the 
experiences  of  his  calf  life  faded  from  his  memory.  He  was 
a  bird,  sitting  upon  the  topmost  bough  of  a  lofty  tree.  He 
was  free,  and  rejoiced  in  his  freedom.  "  I  will  quit,"  thought 
he,  "  these  dark  woods  and  fly  over  the  fields  and  houses." 

As  he  emerged  from  the  shadow  of  the  trees,  and  was 
flying  over  the  pasture  where  he  had  so  recently  escaped  from 
danger,  he  had  a  dim  consciousness  that  there  was  danger 
still. 

Far  above,  and  between  him  and  the  sun,  there  was  a  great 
shadow,  which  instinctively  filled  the  poor  bird  with  terror. 
Soon  he  heard  a  rustling  sound  as  of  wings,  and  then  he  saw, 
what  the  school-boy  had  seen  before,  a  great  hawk  which  had 
hovered  over  the  tall  trees  watching  for  the  little  birds  to 
leave  them. 

There  was  a  great  shock  in  the  air,  and  the  little  bird  knew 
that  the  hawk  was  making  the  awful  plunge  from  which 
there  was  no  escape  for  him.  , 

With  a  scream  of  terror  Charley  awoke  to  find  that  all 
about  the  calf  and  bird  was  a  dream,  that  he  had  startled  the 
school  by  crying  out  in  his  sleep ;  he  awoke  to  receive  punish- 
ment for  being  so  idle  and  so  noisy,  —  happy  enough  to  find 
that  it  was  nothing  worse,  and  that  he  is  still  a  school-boy. 


TO   MY   GRANDMOTHER.  453 

Wheu  boys  say  to  Charley  they  wish  they  were  birds,  he 
tells  them  to  be  glad  they  are  not,  for  he  was  one  once,  and 
never  wishes  to  be  again. 

If  reading  Charley  Grey's  dream  will  help  to  convey  to  my 
young  readers  the  idea  that  every  position  in  life  may  have  its 
trials,  and  that  even  those  careless  creatures,  calves  and 
birds,  may  have  their  troubles,  I  shall  not  be  sorry  that  on 
this  occasion  Charley  fell  asleep  in  school. 


TO    MY    GRANDMOTHER. 

THOUGH  bleak  and  chill  the  wintry  wind, 
Though  dark  the  day,  and  drear, 
Though  lifeless  'neath  her  icy  chains 

The  fettered  earth  appear ; 
Though  leafless  boughs  sway,  bent  and  torn, 

Before  the  furious  gale, 
Yet  cold,  nor  snow,  nor  wintry  blast 
'Gainst  Nature  shall  prevail. 

She  is  waiting,  only  waiting, 
Till  the  spring-days  come  once  more, 
Only  cla-jping  close  her  treasures 
All  the  brighter  to  restore. 

Soon  shall  the  sun's  glad  warmth  and  cheer 

Unloose  each  heavy  chain, 
The  tempest  wild  have  spent  its  wrath, 

Soft  zephyrs  breathe  again. 
"With  verdure  clad,  with  strength  renewed, 

The  flower-crowned  earth  shall  rise. 
With  song  of  birds,  and  rippling  streams 
Salute  the  smiling  skies. 

After  waiting,  calmly  waiting, 
She  shall  rise  a  queen  once  more,  — 
All  her  weakh  of  joy  and  beauty 
O'er  our  happy  hearts  to  pour. 


454  HOUSEHOLD   READING. 

Though  age  and  care  thy  form  have  bowed, 

Though  dark  thy  day  and  drear, 
Though  friends  of  youth  are  from  thee  torn. 

Earth's  joys  no  longer  cheer ; 
Though  lonely,  weary  oftentimes, 
Though  strength  and  vigor  fail, 
Yet  age,  nor  pain,  nor  weariness 
■  Against  thee  shall  prevail. 

Only  waiting,  only  waiting, 
Till  release  from  earth  be  given, 
With  the  heart  secure  in  Jesus, 
How  we  long  for  rest  in  heaven ! 

But  soon  shall  dawn  a  brighter  day, 

All  clouds  be  overpast, 
Then  may  thy  spirit  upward  fly. 

Thy  soul  find  rest  at  last. 
The  loved  and  lost  be  found  again, 

Full  strength  for  weakness  given, 
And  weariness  and  pain  forgot. 
In  perfect  bliss  in  heaven. 

After  waiting,  meekly  waiting. 
Through  these  many  weary  days. 
With  the  sanctified  in  glory, 
Sing  eternally  God's  praise  ! 


PEACE    IN    TRIAL. 

IT  seems  to  the  worldly  man  a  paradox,  and  almost  a  self- 
contradiction,  that  the  Christian  can  enjoy  peace  and  en- 
dure trials  at  the  same  time.  And  with  most  irreligious  men 
it  is  a  sSlf-contradiction.  With  them  an  essential  requisite  to 
peace  in  the  soul,  peace  even  in  an  inferior  sense,  is  external 
comfort.  Let  bereavement,  disappointment,  and  adversity 
become  their  lot,  — 

"  Let  cares  like  a  wild  deluge  come, 
And  storms  of  sorrow  fall/'  — 


PEACE   IN   TRIAL.  455 

and  the  commotion  and  strife  within  will  De  quite  equal  to 
the  troubles  that  prevail  without.  Their  fountains  of  happi- 
ness are  in  this  present  world,  and  when  those  fountains  are 
dried  up,  their  thirsty  souls  know  not  where  to  find  relief. 

But  it  is  not  so  with  the  Christian.  His  Redeemer  has 
opened  for  him  a  perennial  fountain  of  joy.  To  him  has 
been  given  access  to  "  the  river  of  the  water  of  life,"  yea, 
there  is  within  him  a  "  well  of  water  springing  up  into  ever- 
lasting life."  When  Christ  was  about  leaving  the  world,  he 
left  his  beloved  disciples  this  rich  legacy.  "  Peace  I  leave 
with  you,  my  peace  I  give  unto  you,  not  as  the  world  givetli 
give  I  unto  you.  Let  not  your  heart  be  troubled,  neither  let 
it  be  afraid." 

This  promise  was  not  confined  to  the  primitive  disciples  of 
Christ.  The  same  gre6n  pastures  and  still  waters  that  were 
accessible  to  them  still  remain  for  all  the  flock  of  Christ,  in 
all  ages  of  the  world.  To  us  he  is  in  effect  saying,  "  In  the 
world  ye  shall  have  tribulation,  but  be  of  good  cheer ;  my 
peace  I  give  unto  you,  let  not  your  heart  be  troubled."  And 
what  is  the  peace  of  Christ  ?  It  is  not  such  as  the  world  giv- 
etli,— mere  temporal  prosperity,  or  personal  ease,  or  the  grati- 
fication of  natural  affection.  It  is  the  peace  of  the  soul,  a 
peace  imparted  by  the  heavenly  Comforter,  a  calmness  of 
mind  at  times  when  others  would  be  filled  with  anxiety,  or 
terror,  or  rage,  the  comfort  of  a  hope  reposing  on  the  Rock 
of  Ages,  a  support  and  strength  derived  from  the  presence  of 
the  Lord,  and  from  "  the  power  of  his  might."  It  is  a  peace 
of  conscience,  a  peace  with  the  world,  a  peace  with  God. 
And  this  peace  the  devoted  Christian  may  enjoy,  in  seasons 
of  severe  trial,  when  the  waves  of  trouble  are  rolling  and 
roaring  all  around  him,  and  the  storms  of  adversity,  with 
their  thunderings  and  lightnings,  darken  all  his  sky.  - 

The  Christian  is  subject,  like  other  men,  to  losses  and  dis- 
appointments. Those  who  are  near  to  him  by  the  ties  of 
relationship  and  affection  are  taken  from  the  world.  If  he 
has  wealth,  it  takes  wings  and  flies  away ;  distress  is  brought 


456  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

upon  him  by  reverses  in  business ;  the  comforts  of  life  fail, 
and  want,  that  he  thought  to  be  far  off,  comes  to  look  him  in 
the  face.  Many  earthly  enjoyments  are  in  prospect,  they  are 
innocent,  and  his  soul  desires  them,  but  they  are  denied  him. 
Fond  reliance  he  has  placed  on  friends  and  associates,  for  the 
accomplishment  of  purposes  on  which  his  heart  was  set,  but 
they  fail  him  in  the  hour  of  need.  Cruel  experience  is  sent 
to  teach  him  that  all  things  earthly  are  transitory  and  uncer- 
tain. But  in  all  these  trials  a  well  of  consolation  is  opened 
for  him  in  his  spiritual  union  with  Christ.  If  earthly  treas- 
ures are  lost  to  him,  the  costliest  treasure  he  can  possess,  a 
treasure  too  good  for  earth,  is  laid  up  for  him  in  heaven ;  and 
the  mere  title  he  now  has  to  it  makes  him  rich.  If  friends 
depart,  other  friends  survive,  and  Jesus,  the  best  friend  the 
universe  affords,  will  never  leave  nor  forsake  him.  Have  his 
plans  of  life  been  defeated,  and  objects  on  which  he  has  ex- 
pended much  thought  and  labor,  eluded  his  grasp  ?  He  sees 
the  hand  of  his  Heavenly  Father  has,  for  the  best  of  reasons, 
brought  about  the  failure,  which  to  the  most  dearly  cherished 
object  of  his  hopes  and  the  chief  purposes  of  his  life,  the 
friendship  of  God  and  a  heavenly  crown,  he  can  still  look  for- 
ward with  the  utmost  assurance  of  hope.  Has  he  seen  the 
fondest  of  earthly  hopes,  those  that  are  reared  on  the  soil  of 
friendship  and  affection,  rudely  and  suddenly  crushed  ?  has 
intemperance,  or  licentiousness,  or  some  other  form  of  vice, 
brought  ruin  upon  his  kindred,  and  filled  his  soul  with  bit- 
terness ?  It  is  perhaps  a  bitterness  which  the  stranger  doth 
not  know.  But  religion  is  capable  of  healing  the  bitter 
waters  of  grief;  yea, 

"  Earth  has  no  soitow  that  heaven  cannot  heal." 

He  has,  above,  a  Friend  that  never  disappoints.  He  has  in 
Christ's  flock  beloved  ones  on  whom  vice  has  no  power. 
And  the  fiery  trial  tends  to  purify  his  affections,  to  wean  hira 
from  the  vanities  of  the  world,  and  place  his  hopes  more  firmly 
on  the  good  things  that  will  never  pass  away. 


THE  MINISTER'S  MONDAY.  457 


iHE    MINISTER'S    MONDAY. 

WELCOME  Monday!  Once  more  we  gratefully  find 
ourselves  within  that  brief  favored  space  in  the  flying 
week  which  bears  thy  name,  grand  working  day  in  the  kitch- 
en, chief  leisure  day  in  the  study  ;  dreaded  by  Bridget,  anti- 
cipated with  joy  by  us !  With  ministers  in  general,  Monday 
may,  so  far  as  any  direct  setting  forward  of  their  ordinary 
business  is  concerned,  be  set  down  as  a  dies  non.  Some  there 
are,  indeed,  who  go  to  their  studies  as  regularly,  and  work  as 
diligently,  upon  that  day  as  any  other.  But  there  are  few  who 
can  do  this  profitably,  if,  indeed,  any  can.  It  is,  or  should 
be,  to  his  physical  and  mental  nature,  the  minister's  Sabbath. 
The  first  day  of  the  week,  which  brings  rest  from  toil  to  others, 
brings  to  him  what  are  often  the  most  exhausting  labors  of 
the  whole  seven.  From  that  third  service,  where,  if  lie 
does  not  assume  the  whole  burden  himself,  he  is  expected  to 
throw  out  a  few  thoughts  to  put  other  minds  in  motion,  he 
returns  to  his  home  often  too  tired  to  rest,  and  too  much  ex- 
cited to  sleep,  till  the  best  hours  of  the  night  have  rolled 
away.  No  wonder  he  hails  Monday  with  some  such  emotions 
as  a  sailor  does  port  after  a  storm.  To-day  he  can  let  his  pen 
repose  from  the  never-ending  and  always  laborious  toil  of  ser- 
mon-writing, and  let  eye  and  brain  enjoy  brief  release  from 
conning 

"  Text  and  context  and  theme, 
And  theme  and  context  and  text." 

To-day  he  feels  as  if  his  habitual  burden  had  for  the  time 
slipped  from  his  shoulders. 

And  yet  it  is  no  idle  day.  If  there  are  no  cases  of  sick- 
ness or  new  affliction  or  difficulty  in  his  parish  that  need 
immediate  attention,  there  will  be  many  little  items  of  de- 
ferred business,  domestic  and  miscellaneous,  that  must  be  at- 
tended to.     And  often  not  a  few  busy  hours  are  required  to 


458  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

clear  the  docket  of  neglected  correspondence,  &g.,  &g.  This 
is  so  far  a  change  of  employment  from  hard  thinking  to  that 
which  requires  comparatively  little  mental  effort,  that  it  is  in 
a  degree  recreation. 

But  he  needs  recreation  of  a  more  positive  character. 
Something  of  this  he  finds  in  his  weekly  newspaper,  into 
which  he  could  cast  but  a  hasty  glance  on  Saturday.  To-day, 
perchance,  he  takes  up  a  magazine,  or  volume  of  light  litera- 
ture, —  a  7iovel,  if  you  will,  —  seldom  or  never  else  indulged 
in.  To-day,  if  ever,  he  lets  mind  (and  body  too)  range  free 
whither  it  will,  amid  the  gi-ave  or  the  gay.  But  not  wisely 
will  he  linger  much  among  the  former.  Lay  reader,  be  not 
scandalized  at  the  suggestion  that  i/our  minister,  the  very  day 
after  he  has  been  addressing  his  hearers  on  the  most  momen- 
tous themes,  and  pleading  with  them,  perhaps,  in  tears,  should 
be  laughing  over  a  humorous  story,  or  joining  in  the  sports 
of  children,  making  himself  a  boy  again,  or  engaging  with 
some  professional  brother  in  the  play  of  wit  and  side-shaking 
mirthfulness.  The  minister,  of  all  men,  needs  such  divertise- 
ment,  and  needs  it  most  of  all  on  Monday.  If  mental  recre^ 
ation,  pleasantry,  and  laughter  be  not  sins  to  bo  banished 
from  earth,  then  may  a  minister  lawfully  have  part  in  them, 
at  least  one  day  in  seven.  We  plead  not  for  levity  and  folly, 
though  these  may  not  always  be  discriminated  from  those  in 
theory  or  practice.  We  plead  for  nothing  from  which  a  cler- 
gyman may  not  return  to  his  studies  with  new  energy,  to  his 
devotions  with  unabated  earnestness.  And  let  none  who  would 
have  their  pastor  full  of  vigor  and  pathos  when  he  preaches, 
full  of  sympathizing  tenderness  by  the  bed  of  sickness,  and 
in  the  house  of  mourning,  forget  that  it  is  not  in  humanity 
to  carry  such  a  load  of  thought  and  feeling  incessantly,  and 
carry  it  long.  Let  your  minister,  if  he  pleases,  be  even  merry 
on  Monday, 

But  there  are  "  diversities  "  of  taste  and  of  requirements 
in  this  regard,  as  well  as  "  of  gifts."  One  man,  one  minister, 
will  find  recreation  in  what  would  be  the  very  antipodes  of 


PEOGEESS  BY  CONVULSION.  459 

recreation  to  another.  Anything  not  positively  prohibited, 
and  not  inherently  sinful,  which  any  man  finds  best  for  him, 
should  be  viewed  with  liberal  indulgence  by  others,  while  all 
retain  just  remembrance  of  the  Apostle's  words,  "  Only  use 
not  your  liberty  for  a  cloak  of  Izakia^''  in  any  of  its  forms ; 
and  that  word  will  cover  milder  things  than  "  malicious- 
ness." 


PROGRESS   BY   CONVULSION. 

SUCH  has  been  the  law  from  the  beginning.  The  slight- 
est review  of  history  is  sufficient  to  prove  the  fact,  while 
very  little  reflection  is  needed  to  perceive  the  reason  of  the 
fact.  What  are  the  great  dates  of  time,  but  epochs  of  violent 
social  agitation,  resulting  in  each  instance  in  a  real  advance- 
ment of  the  race  ?  That  great  purification  of  the  face  of  the 
earth  from  its  corruption,  which  Noah  was  privileged  to  wit- 
ness, it  required  a  deluge  to  accomplish.  Israel  rose  from 
its  Egyptian  enslavement  to  national  independence  only  by 
a  Divine  deliverance,  whose  violence  utterly  desolated  the 
land  of  bondage.  It  cost  the  conquest  of  almost  the  whole 
civilized  world  by  the  Roman  army  to  prepare  the  way  for 
the  Messiah's  advent ;  and  the  destruction  of  Jerusalem,  and 
the  scattering  of  the  ancient  covenant  people  to  the  four 
winds,  needed  to  precede  the  ingathering  of  the  Gentiles 
into  the  kingdom  of  God.  It  was  by  no  quiet  process^  but 
by  a  disturbance  that  shook  all  Europe,  as  with  an  earth- 
quake's power,  that  Luther  recovered  for  the  dishonored  Bible 
its  liberty  and  rightful  authority  over  the  conscience.  It 
was  only  by  a  revolution^  attended  with  all  the  perils  and  suf- 
ferings of  long  civil  war,  that  the  Netherlanders,  the  Puri- 
tans of  England,  tlie  American  Colonics,  wrested  their  im- 
munities and  precious  civil  rights  from  the  grasp  of  tyranny. 
But  in  each  instance  the  result  was  worth  all  that  it  cost. 


460  HOUSEHOLD  EEADING. 

These  conspicuous  examples  are  quite  enough  to  indicate 
the  law.  All  important  human  progress  has  been  made,  — 
not  by  a  peaceful  development  of  already  established  social 
forces,  —  but  by  means  of  violent  and  wide-reaching  social 
convulsions.  They  have  been  the  short-lived  and  salutary 
storms  that  have  cleared  the  air.  The  grand  programme 
was  laid  down  long  ago  in  that  ancient  Divine  prediction, 
"  I  will  overturn,  overturn,  OVERTURN,  until  He  comes 
whose  right  it  is  !  "  That  is  the  great  thing  to  be  effected, — 
the  coming  in  power  of  "  Him  whose  right  it  is,"  and  who, 
when  he  comes,  will  "reign  in  righteousness ^  This  is  the 
consummate  result  of  human  histciry,  the  full  establish- 
ment of  Christ's  righteous  kingdom.  All  contributes  ulti- 
mately to  this  ;  the  calms  of  peace  and  the  storms  of  revolu- 
tion alike.  When  social  evils  grow  rank,  and  root  them- 
selves deeply  as  national  institutions,  too  firmly  to  be  re- 
moved by  gentle  influence,  there  may  be  need  of  a  new 
work  of  "  overturning,^^  of  some  violent  social  convulsion, 
to  cast  the  great  overshadowing  upas  to  the  ground.  And 
the  repetition  in  the  language  of  the  prophecy  forewarns  us 
how  continuous  and  thorough  the  destructive  process  that 
must  precede  the  upbuilding  of  the  righteous  kingdom  may 
be  expected  to  be. 

The  near  prospect  of  such  a  disturbance  is  agitating.  An 
earthquake  is  no  gentle  agency  ;  a  nation  cannot  be  rent 
asunder,  without  some  very  serious  attendant  calamity.  All 
worldly  interests,  that  thrive  best  in  the  clear  skies  of  peace, 
naturally  dread  the  approach  of  such  an  event,  and  are  eager 
to  avert  it  by  some  sort  of  compromise,  not  caring  too  scru- 
pulously about  the  preservation  of  honor  and  true  manhood. 
But  of  one  thing  we  may  be  well  assured  ;  if  this  country, 
recently  so  firmly  united,  is  now  suddenly  thrown  into  a 
state  of  anarchy,  it  will  not  be  through  human  instrumen- 
tality only,  or  chiefly,  but  by  the  power  of  Him  who,  in  his 
own  way  and  time,  "  overturns,  overturns,  overturns,"  to 
bring  more  rapidly  forward  "  the  reign  "  of  universal  "  right- 


ORIGIN   OF   THE  SIX   MUSICAL   SYLLABLES.  461 

eousness !  "  And  his  friends,  friends  with  him  of  the  whole 
human  race,  may  calmly  await  the  issues  he  will  bring  to  pass, 
and  in  faith  and  hope  "  lift  up  their  heads,"  believing  that 
"  their  redemption  draweth  nigh!  "  ' 


ORIGIN   OF   THE   SIX  MUSICAL   SYLLABLES. 

GUIDO  ARETINUS,  or  Guido  of  Arctium,  a  monk  of  the 
order  of  St.  Benedict,  and  afterwards  abbot  of  the  mon- 
astery of  St.  Crux  Avellana,  near  Arctium,  now  Arezzo,  a 
city  in  Tuscany,  flourished  about  A.  D.  1024.  He  excelled 
in  the  knowledge  of  music,  —  no  uncommon  accomplishment 
at  that  time  in  monasteries,  —  and  wrote  several  books  on 
that  subject.  He  introduced  a  new  system  of  musical  nota- 
tion, substantially  the  same,  we  believe,  with  that  now  in 
common  use.  Sigebert,  an  old  writer,  in  his  Chronicon,  un- 
der the  year  1028,  says  :  "  In  music,  Guido  greatly  excelled 
all  who  went  before  him,  since  by  his  method  boys  and  girls 
were  taught  to  sing  tunes  previously  unknown  to  them  with 
more  facility  than  by  following  the  voice  of  a  master,  or  in 
the  use  of  an  instrument ;  for,  by  only  affixing  six  letters  or 
syllables  to  six  sounds  (which  are  all  that  music  regularly 
admits  of),  and  distinguishing  these  sounds  by  the  johits  of 
the  fingers  of  the  left  hand,  their  distances  ascending  and  de- 
scending through  the  whole  diapason  are  clearly  presented 
both  to  eye  and  ear."  That  is,  he  invented,  or  first  used  in 
music,  the  six  syllables  ut,  re,  mi,  fa,  sol,  la,  deriving  them 
from  that  well-known  hymn  of  Paul  the  Deacon  (who  lived 
about  A.  D.  774)  to  St.  John  the  Baptist :  — 

"  UT  queant  laxis  REsonare  fibris 
MIra  gestorum  FA  muli  tuorum 
SOLve  pollutis  LAbris  reatum, 

Sancte  Joannes."  * 

*  Holy  John,  remit  the  guilt  of  our  polluted  lips,  that  thy  servants  may  cele- 
brate thy  wonderful  deeds  on  their  resounding  lyres. 


462  HOUSEHOLD   BEADING. 

These  six  syllables,  with  the  syllable  si  of  later  date,  have 
also  been  derived  from  a  distich  of  an  uncertain  author :  — 

"  Corde  Deum  et  fidibns  gemituque  alto  benedicam 
Ut  Re  me  Facial  Solvere  Labra  Sibi." 

Again,  they  have  been  supposed  to  be  taken  from  a  distich 
of  Abraham  Bucholzerus,  in  his  chronology,  under  the  year 
1044  :  — 

"  Cur  ihibes  tristi  numeros  cantumque  labora  1 
Ut  Relevet  Miserum  Fatum  Solitosque  Labores." 

The  stanza  first  quoted  is  clearly  the  true  source  of  these 
famous  syllables.  The  first  syllable  of  each  hemistich  forms 
a  regular  series  of  the  six  natural  sounds  of  music  in  the 
ascending  scale. 

At  the  side  of  each  of  these  syllables  Guido  placed  one  of 
the  first  seven  letters  of  the  Roman  alphabet  A,  B,  C,  D,  E,  F, 
G,  the  Greek  letter  gamma  being  placed  under  the  lowest  of 
the  six  syllables  to  make  the  number  seven  ;  whence  the  whole 
scale  was  called  gamut,  a  name  retained  to  this  day. 

Guido  is  thus  entitled  to  the  honor  of  inaugurating  a  new 
era  in  music,  in  place  of  the  confusion  previously  existing, 
by  the  use  of  the  lines,  spaces,  clefs,  and  syllables  in  the  mu- 
sical scale,  much  as  we  now  have  them.  He  himself  ascribes 
it  to  the  grace  of  God,  that  in  the  use  of  his  system,  boys  pre- 
viously untaught  were  able  in  the  space  of  a  month  to  sing  at 
first  sight  tunes  which  they  had  never  seen  or  heard  before, 
to  the  great  wonder  and  delight  of  many  witnesses.  He  was 
accustomed  to  say,  "  Music  without  lines  is  like  a  well  with 
out  a  rope." 

The  preceding  facts  are  derived  from  a  sketch  of  Guido 
Aretinus,  in  the  Patrologice  Cursus  Completus,  ed.  J.  P.  Migne. 
Vol.  141,  column  375. 

Dr.  Burney,  in  his  "  History  of  Music,"  labors  hard  to  de- 
prive Guido  of  the  credit  of  the  present  system  of  solmiza- 
tion,  and  will  scarce  allow  that  he  introduced  any  improve- 
ment except  that  of  using  lines  and  spaces  together  in  the 
staS";  alleging  that  before  his  time  lines  were  used  without 


ORIGIN   OF   THE   SIX   MUSICAL   SYLLABLES.  463 

spaces,  and  spaces  without  lines,  and  denying  that  there  is 
any  proof  tliat  Guide  invented  the  syllables  ur,  re,  mi,  fa, 
SOL,  LA.  Still  he  is  obliged  to  admit  that  the  invention  is  as- 
cribed to  him  by  writers  who  lived  very  near  the  time  of 
Guido,  and  who  would  be  very  likely  to  know ;  particularly 
by  Sigebert,  a  monk  of  Gemblours  in  Brabant,  whose  state- 
ment has  already  been  given.  He  cites  also  the  chronicle  of 
Tours  under  the  year  1033,  which  expressly  says  that  Guido 
constructed  the  gamut,  and  applied  the  six  syllables  to  the 
six  sounds,  as  now  universally  used  in  music.  "  For  before 
that  time,"  adds  the  chronicle,  "  practitioners  had  no  other 
guide  than  habit  and  the  ear." 

In  the  musical  scale  of  Guido,  no  provision  was  made  for 
accidental  flats  or  sharps,  or  for  any  other  sounds  or  keys 
but  those  which  may  occur  in  the  octave  of  C  natural.  And 
it  is  worthy  of  special  note,  that  he  made  no  provision  for  the 
sharp  seventh  of  the  key.  This  indeed  was  wanting,  till 
some  time  in  the  seventeenth  century,  when,  after  various 
trials  and  proposals  to  the  public,  the  syllable  si  was  intro- 
duced in  France.  At  a  still  later  period,  indeed  not  long  be- 
fore the  present  generation,  the  syllable  do,  long  used  by  the 
Italians,  was  introduced  instead  of  ut.  More  than  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty  years  ago,  the  English  musicians  had  rejected 
from  the  scale  the  syllables  ut  and  re  ;  using  the  only  remain- 
ing four  invented  by  Guido,  —  mi,  fa,  sol,  la.  They  thus 
reduced  the  scale  to  one  of  tetrachords,  the  very  thing  which 
was  in  use  before  the  time  of  Guido,  and  which  he  labored 
sutcessfully  to  reform.  When  the  present  writer  first  at- 
tended to  the  study  of  music,  which  was  in  1817,  such  was 
the  practice  in  New  England,  and  probably  throughout  this 
country.  But  more  recent  composers  have  made  the  scale  to 
consist  of  the  entire  train  now  in  use,  —  do,  re,  mi,  pa,  sol, 
LA,  si.  The  system  of  Guido  was  perhaps  as  great  an  im- 
provement on  the  preceding  modes  as  the  Arabic  figures  over 
the  Roman  numerals,  or  the  American  decimal  currency 
over  the  cumbrous  sterlino;  reckonino;. 


464  HOUSEHOLD   READING. 


EMINENT    ENGLISH    PREACHERS. 

IT  is  a  capital  study  for  a  preacher  to  hear  other  preachers 
for  a  time,  wliile  he  himself  is  relieved  of  personal  respon- 
sibility for  the  pulpit.  But  in  order  that  he  may  hear  to  the 
best  advantage,  he  should  divest  himself  of  the  critical  spirit, 
and  as  far  as  possible  of  the  professional  feeling ;  should 
place  himself  in  the  position  of  a  simple  hearer  of  the  word, 
seeking  his  own  edification ;  and  when  he  is  moved  or  quick- 
ened, or  sees  others  about  him  fitly  impressed  by  the  sermon, 
he  should  ask  himself  what  it  is  that  affects  his  own  mind,  or 
the  minds  of  others  thus  and  so,  and  he  will  get  at  the  secret 
of  effective  preaching  by  inward  spiritual  signs  rather  than 
by  oratorical  criticism.  In  the  matter  of  hearing  preaching, 
I  have  endeavored  to  profit  by  the  best  masters ;  and  most 
devoutly  would  I  thank  the  great  Master  and  Teacher  of  all, 
that  there  are  so  many  really  good  preachers,  each  good  in 
his  own  way.  The  richness  of  the  Gospel  and  the  fulness  of 
the  Spirit's  dispensation  are  both  illustrated  by  this  diversity 
of  gifts. 

Every  preacher  must  be  a  law  to  himself,  using  his  own 
gifts  in  his  own  way,  so  that  his  preaching  shall  be  as  simply 
natural  as  is  any  function  of  his  being.  It  is  a  disadvantage 
of  our  mode  of  theological  training,  that  it  runs  whole  classes 
of  young  men  pretty  much  in  one  mould,  and  that  the  mould  of 
the  professor  who,  for  the  time  being,  is  most  popular  or  most 
magnetic.  Dr.  Bushnell's  doctrine  of  "  unconscious  influ- 
ence"  is  strikingly  illustrated  in  every  theological  seminary, 
and  indeed  wherever  a  young  preacher  has  had  before  him 
some  controlHng  mind  as  a  model  or  a  teacher.  A  gifted 
young  man  was  lately  called  to  be  the  colleague  of  one  of  the 
most  distinguished  preachers  in  Scotland.  The  senior  pastor 
being  asked  what  he  thought  of  his  associate's  sermon, 
replied,  "  0,  it  was  an  excellent  sermon ;  but  some  one  who 


EJHNENT   ENGLISH   PREACHERS.  465 

knows  him  well  enough  to  speak  to  him  on  such  a  matter 
should  give  him  a  hint  about  hitcliing  his  shoulders  at  such 
a  rate.  It  is  not  only  awkward,  it  is  really  ludicrous."  And 
ludicrous  it  was ;  for  it  was  the  most  characteristic  action  of 
the  senior  pastor  himself,  which  the  young  man  had  uncon- 
sciously imitated,  and  of  which  his  critic  was  quite  unaware. 
Let  the  preacher  first  of  all  be  natural. 

It  will  not  be  imagined,  then,  that  in  these  random  notes 
upon  a  few  eminent  preachers,  I  am  about  to  hold  up  any  one 
as  a  model,  or  to  single  out  peculiarities  for  imitation.  The 
debated  question  as  to  the  relative  merits  of  extemporaneous 
and  written  discourse  loses  much  of  its  importance  in  a  com- 
parison of  eminent  preachers.  I  heard  Mr.  Newman  Hall 
and  Canon  Wordsworth  in  carefully  written  discourses  ;  and 
Mr.  Spurgeon  and  Dr.  Candlish  in  sermons  entirely  without 
]iotes,  —  all  fine  examples  of  the  men  and  their  gifts;  but 
the  written  discourses  were  to  me  the  most  impressive,  and 
seemingly  the  most  effective  iipon  the  hearers. 

I  adhere  to  the  judgment  formed  fourteen  years  ago,  that 
the  ablest  preac'ior  in  Great  Britain  within  my  knowledge  is 
Dr.  W.  Lindsay  Alexander  of  Edinburgh ;  clear,  strong,  ear- 
nest, instructive,  spiritual,  "  able  to  teach  others  also,"  and 
"  apt  to  teach,"  according  to  the  requirements  of  the  text 
or  of  the  times.  Dr.  Alexander  preaches  written  sermons, 
commonly  prepared  with  great  care.  He  always  has  some- 
thing worth  saying,  and  he  always  says  it  well ;  and  when 
these  conditions  are  fulfilled,  the  question  of  written  or  oral 
discourse  is  altogether  secondary. 

Dr.  Alexander  represents  the  solid  thinking  and  the  cul- 
tivated scholarship  which  we  so  mucli  admire  in  certain  men, 
whom  we  place  in  the  front  rank  of  our  New  England  preach- 
ers ;  and  he  enjoys  that  freedom  from  conventional  forms, 
whether  of  dogma  or  of  ritual,  which  is  the  glory  of  our  Con- 
gregational polity,  and  which  favors  the  best  development 
of  the  individual.  I  was  glad  to  find  that  Edinburgh  had 
learned  to   appreciate  him,  and   that   the   old,  dingy   little 

30 


466  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

chapel,  in  whicli  he  seemed  as  a  light  in  a  dark  place,  had 
been  exchanged  for  a  commodious  and  attractive  edifice, 
well  situated,  and  filled  with  an  intelligent  and  appreciative 
congregation.  Dr.  Alexander  approaches  more  nearly  the 
American  style  and  standard  of  preaching  than  any  Dis- 
senter whom  I  have  heard  ;  and  the  weight  of  this  compli- 
ment will  be  appreciated  when  I  quote  the  exact  words  of  an 
excellent  English  brother  who  had  spent  much  time  in  the 
United  States :  "  American  preachers  think  where  "we  Eng- 
lishmen talk.^''  Yet  there  has  been  a  great  advance  in  the 
thinking  power  of  the  Dissenting  pulpit  in  England,  and  I  do 
not  quote  the  above  in  any  spirit  of  disparagement. 

I  heard  the  Rev.  Newman  Hall  in  a  finished  address  before 
the  Congregational  Union,  upon  which  he  had  evidently  ex- 
pended his  whole  force.  It  was  a  masterly  performance,  and 
I  could  discern  in  certain  parts  of  it  the  secret  of  his  popular 
power.  Mr.  Hall  does  not  seek  to  sway  men  by  mere  rhet- 
oric, though  he  is  capable  of  very  fine  effects  of  style.  He 
thinks  ;  thinks  closely  and  sharply,  and  speaks  to  his  hearers 
as  thoughtful  men,  in  well-defined  sentences,  that  carry  home 
his  mind  to  theirs.  Many  of  his  sentences  have  a  ring  that 
causes  them  to  vibrate  in  the  memory  long  after  their  utter- 
ance. 

The  strength  of  this  address  lay  in  its  vindication  of  the 
doctrine  of  atonement  as  the  central,  vital  truth  of  the  Gos- 
pel. The  fervor  and  earnestness  of  the  speaker  in  his  argu- 
ment showed  with  what  power  he  might  move  the  plain 
masses  of  men,  giving  them  thought  and  argument  in  clear 
phrase,  and  with  that  glow  which  kindles  the  brain  through 
the  heart.  Some  of  his  figures  were  exceedingly  beautiful, 
and  they  had  always  the  merit  of  being  pertinent  and  well 
sustained.  His  manner  is  easy,  graceful,  and  effective.  I 
hope  you  may  yet  judge  of  him  in  American  pulpits. 

I  heard  Mr.  Spurgeon  in  his  own  Tabernacle,  —  where  I 
sat  an  humble  unit  in  the  gallery,  amid  a  concourse  of  six 
thousand  human  atoms  drawn  together  and  hold  together  by 


ErnNENT   ENGLISH   PEEACHEES.  467 

the  strange  power  of  one  voice  and  mind.  I  must  own,  how- 
ever, that  Mr,  Spurgeon  himself  did  not  get  hold  upon  me 
very  deeply,  though  the  congregation  did,  and  the  singing, 
and  the  whole  sublime  spectacle.  His  sermon,  as  to  sub- 
stance and  structure,  was  about  what  you  and  I,  my  dear 
"  Congregationalist,"  would  carry  with  us  to  an  evening  lec- 
ture or  a  conference  talk,  but  would  hardly  offer  to  one  of 
our  trained  congregations  for  their  Sabbath-day  food.  Yet  it 
was  good,  wholesome,  profitable,  with  occasional  passages  of 
real  power,  and  with  very  few  objectionable  phrases.  His 
rare  felicity  of  utterance,  his  homely  phraseology,  with  much 
of  the  quaintness  of  Bunyan,  his  masterly  self-possession,  his 
evident  sincerity  and  earnestness,  his  close  adherence  to 
Scripture,  with  somewhat  of  that  spiritualizing  habit  which 
is  always  fascinating,  his  strong  theology,  his  downrightness 
in  asserting  the  truth,  —  these  seemed  to  me  the  qualities 
that  cause  "  the  common  people  to  hear  him  gladly." 

His  text  was,  "If  the  foundation  s  be  destroyed,  what  shall 
the  righteous  do?"  —  a  sermon  suggested  by  the  financial 
panic,  and  making  that  its  most  telling  illustration.  We 
should  rejoice  that  the  masses  in  London  have  two  such 
preachers  as  Mr.  Hall  and  Mr.  Spurgeon. 

I  had  the  opportunity  of  meeting  Mr.  Spurgeon  quite  at 
his  leisure  at  Lowwood  Inn,  near  Windermere,  and  was 
deeply  interested  in  the  strong,  simple,  resolute  character  of 
the  man,  in  his  devotion  to  principle,  his  charity  toward 
men,  his  catholicity  for  the  saints,  especially  his  advocacy  of 
communion  with  all  believers,  irrespective  of  the  question  of 
baptism.  He  said  to  me,  by  the  way,  that,  in  his  breadth  and 
variety  of  mental  endowment,  Mr.  Beecher  seems  to  him 
more  like  Shakespeare  than  any  man  who  has  lived  since  his 
time. 

How  shall  I  picture  Dr.  Candlish,  with  his  broad  shoul- 
ders, wriggling  and  twisting  spasmodically  with  every  utter- 
ance, his  wiry  hair  twisted  and  untwisted  by  the  nervous 
clutching  of  his  fingers,  his  broad  Scotch  jerking  itself  out  at 


468  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

first  in  slow  periods,  then  rushing  like  a  torrent,  but  always 
keeping  its  channel,  and  finally  broadening  out  into  a  full, 
steady,  clear-flowing  stream.  His  text  was,  "  The  foundation 
of  the  Lord  standeth  sure,"  &c.,  and  his  treatment  of  it  was 
textual  to  a  most  minute  degree.  Yet,  without  forcing  the 
construction,  he  contrived  to  put  a  rich  meaning  of  doctrine 
or  precept  into  every  word,  and  he  has  lodged  that  text  in 
my  mind  by  so  many  points  of  suggestion  and  instruction 
that  it  will  be  sure  to  remain.  That  is  a  good  test  of  preach- 
ing, and  a  good  fruit  also.  Dr.  Candlish's  illustrations  were 
chiefly  drawn  from  the  Scriptures,  and  were  very  tersely  and 
often  strikingly  put. 

I  did  penance  at  Westminster  Abbey,  in  standing  through 
a  long  service,  thus  learning  to  have  compassion  upon  some 
who,  in  other  places,  have  had  to  endure  long  sermons  with- 
out relief  from  a  change  of  position.  Here,  however,  it 
was  the  service  that  was  tiresome ;  the  sermon  was  a  positive 
refreshment.  When  Canon  Wordsworth  appeared,  had  I 
judged  only  from  his  carriage,  his  hair,  his  general  expres- 
sion, I  should  have  said  that  Professor  Hitchcock,  of  New 
York,  had  put  on  the  surplice.  But  the  sing-song  tone  of 
delivery  soon  undeceived  me.  The  sermon  was  on  the  prom- 
ise of  paradise  to  the  penitent  thief.  Instead  of  linguistic 
criticism  and  patristic  lore,  such  as  Wordsworth's  Common 
tary  had  led  me  to  expect,  there  was  a  grand  simplicity  of 
statement,  a  clear  and  forcible  putting  of  the  Biblical  doc- 
trine, —  showing  that  the  paradise  of  immediate  felicity  is  to 
the  heaven  of  perfected  bliss  as  the  king's  garden  to  his  pal- 
ace ;  and  an  application  at  once  so  tender  and  so  pungent 
that  I  could  have  fancied  myself  in  an  old  New  England 
meeting-house  in  a  time  of  revival.  I  came  away  from  that 
sermon  with  the  conviction  that  the  preaching  which  brings 
out  clearly  and  strongly  some  truth  of  the  Bible,  and  that 
presses  this  home  with  force  of  conviction,  so  that  it  carries 
both  judgment  and  conscience  with  it,  is  the  preaching  that 
lives,  and,  however  commissioned  of  men,  is  ordained  of  God 
unto  life  from  the  dead. 


"WHEN  THOU  HAST  SHUT  THY  DOOR,  PRAY.      469 


"WHEN   THOU   HAST    SHUT   THY   DOOR,   PRAY." 

LORD,  I  have  shut  my  door,  — 
Shut  out  life's  busy  cares  and  fretting  noise : 
Here  in  this  silence  they  intrude  no  more ; 

Speak  thou,  and  heavenly  joys 
Shall  fill  my  heart  with  music  sweet  and  calm, 
A  holy  psalm. 

Yes,  I  have  shut  my  door 
Even  on  all  the  beauty  of  thine  earth, 
To  its  blue  ceiling  from  its  emerald  floor. 

Filled  with  spring's  bloom  and  mirth. 
From  these  thy  works  I  turn,  thyself  I  seek, 
To  thee  I  speak. 

And  I  have  shut  my  door 
On  earthly  passion,  all  its  yearning  love. 
Its  tender  friendships,  all  the  priceless  store 

Of  human  ties.     Above 
All  these  my  heart  aspires.     0  Heart  divine, 
Stoop  thou  to  mine ! 

Lord,  I  have  shut  my  door ! 
Come  thou  and  visit  me.     I  am  alone ! 
Come,  as  when  doors  were  shut  thou  cam'st  of  yore, 

And  visitedst  thine  own. 
My  Lord !  I  kneel  with  reverent  love  and  fear, 
For  thou  art  here ! 


470  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 


SOLDIERS'    MONUMENTS. 

THERE  seems  to  be  a  general  movement  in  the  towns  and 
cities  of  this  Commonwealth,  as  well  as  in  other  States, 
for  erecting  memorials  to  the  honored  dead  who  fell  in  our 
great  struggle  for  freedom  and  Union.  The  feeling  which 
prompts  this  is  a  noble  and  a  generous  one,  and  should  not 
be  discouraged  ;  but  it  is  highly  desirable  that  it  be  wisely 
directed. 

There  are  two  forms  in  which  we  may  rear  these  memo- 
rials, —  one  by  stone  or  marble  monuments,  the  other  by 
buildings  dedicated  to  the  purpose.  The  choice  is  between 
these  two  modes.  Which  is  most  desirable,  most  rational, 
most  beneficial  to  the  living,  as  well  as  most  honorable  to  the 
memory  of  the  dead  ?  That  is  a  question  of  great  interest  at 
the  present  time,  because  millions  on  millions  of  dollars  are 
to  be  expended  in  Massachusetts  alone  for  these  monumental 
purposes. 

If  marble  or  stone  monuments  are  desired,  the  considera- 
tion arises  that  a  large  sum  must  be  expended  to  make  any 
considerable  show.  Five  thousand  dollars  will  accomplish 
but  little,  ten  thousand  dollars  will  rear  nothing  very  striking 
or  impressive.  If  marble  be  selected  as  the  material,  in  most 
cases  it  will  soon  become  discolored  and  more  or  less  disinte- 
grated ;  for  our  climate  is  too  severe  for  most  marbles.  If 
granite  or  sandstone,  the  expense  of  cutting  inscriptions  is 
heavy,  and  besides  this  require  a  great  deal  of  room.  Nothing 
can  be  put  upon  such  monuments  as  a  general  fact  but  the 
mere  names  of  the  fallen.  The  remaining  consideration  in 
regard  to  these  monuments  is,  that  they  have  no  utility  except 
as  perpetuating  the  names  inscribed  upon  them. 

On  the  other  hand,  suppose  it  be  decided  to  erect  a  Memo- 
rial Hall  in  memory  of  the  patriots  who  had  given  their  lives 
to  the  country.     In  the  first  place,  such  a  building  may  be 


SOLDIERS'   MONUMENTS.  471 

erected  as  cheaply  as  a  monument;  in  the  second  place, 
when  completed,  if  made,  as  it  should  always  be,  of  brick  or 
other  durable  material,  it  may  be  made  more  conspicuous  and 
ornamental  than  any  ordinary  monument  of  equal  cost ; 
in  the  third  place,  when  completed,  it  may  be  used  for 
many  desirable  purposes,  and  in  such  a  way  as  shall  be  a 
constant  source  of  happiness  and  improvement  to  the  living  ; 
and  in  the  fourth  place,  the  memory  and  history  of  the  dead 
can  be  in  this  way  more  fully  secured.  This  will  appear 
from  the  following  illustration  :  — 

Suppose  in  one  of  our  thrifty  and  growing  New  England 
villages  such  a  building  were  erected,  say  a  brick,  two  stories 
high,  and  of  dimensions  adapted  to  the  size  and  wants  of  the 
town.  The  lower  room  of  this  building  to  be  fitted  up  as  a 
reading-room,  with  a  library  attached,  open  to  all  the  citizens 
on  prescribed  conditions.  The  upper  story  to  be  the  Memo- 
rial Hall,  suitably  finished  and  ornamented.  In  the  walls 
around  the  room  may  be  inserted  marble  tablets,  upon  which 
are  inscribed  the  names  of  the  departed,  the  regiments  in 
which  they  served,  the  battles  in  which  they  fell,  or  the 
hospital  or  prison  in  which  they  perished.  These  tablets 
arranged  around  the  Hall  will  afford  ample  room  for  all  the 
inscriptions  that  may  be  needed. 

Besides  this,  if  desired,  the  portrait  of  each  person  may  be 
hung  upon  the  walls.  The  present  state  of  the  art  is  such 
that  this  can  be  easily  done ;  for  the  cases  are  few  in  which 
pictures  of  the  deceased  of  some  kind  are  not  to  be  found. 
These,  by  the  happy  art  of  photography,  may  all  be  copied  of 
uniform  size,  and  be  put  in  uniform  frames  if  desired ;  and 
what  appropriate  ornaments  they  would  make  for  such  a 
place,  and  what  pleasing  mementos,  recalling  the  forms  and 
features  of  the  departed  ! 

Besides  this  a  cabinet  might  be  formed  in  this  Hall  of  all 
the  relics  of  the  great  contest  which  may  have  been  brought 
or  sent  home  by  those  who  have  been  engaged  in  it.  How 
interestino;  would  such  a  collection  be !     How  much  would 


472  HOUSEHOLD   READING. 

thus  be  saved  that  would  otherwise  be  hopelessly  scattered 
and  lost !  What  a  place  of  resort,  not  only  for  tho  citizens, 
but  for  all  strangers  visiting  the  place ! 

But  there  is  an  argument  above  and  beyond  all  this.  Such 
a  hall,  so  used,  would  be  a  great  benefit  to  the  young  men 
who  survive.  It  -^/ould  meet  one  of  the  great  wants  of  our 
age.  Young  men,  especially  in  New  England,  need  a  build- 
ing of  this  sort.  We  are  a  manufacturing  people,  we  are 
gathered  into  densely  populated  villages.  Young  men  come 
into  these  in  great  numbers  for  employment.  They  live  in 
boarding-houses  and  work  in  shops.  After  the  toil  and  con- 
finement of  the  day  are  over,  where  shall  the  young  man 
spend  his  evenings  ?  At  home  ?  He  has  got  no  home.  He  is 
a  boarder.  He  may  go  to  his  chamber,  which  he  most  likely 
occupies  with  others,  and  sit  there  if  he  will ;  but  it  is  a  cheer- 
less, comfortless  place,  perhaps,  without  even  a  chance  to 
make  a  fire  to  keep  it  warm,  even  if  he  could  incur  the  ex- 
pense. He  is  not  welcome  anywhere  else  within  the  house. 
Boarders  are  not  wanted  around  the  family  fire,  nor  in  the 
dining-room,  except  at  meals.  The  young  man  feels  all  this, 
so  he  takes  to  the  street.  He  must  go  somewhere,  to  the 
stores,  shops,  groceries ;  but  in  none  of  these  places  does  he 
feel  contented  for  a  great  while.  But  there  is  one  place 
where  he  will  be  welcomed,  one  place  where  he  will  find  room 
and  a  seat,  a  fire  and  plenty  of  company.  That  place  is  the 
saloon.  True,  the  room  is  filled  with  the  fumes  of  lager-beer 
and  tobacco-smoke ;  but  these,  though  offensive  at  first,  he 
will  get  accustomed  to.  Here  he  finds  a  home,  and,  poor  as 
it  is,  all  the  home  he  can  command.  Of  necessity  he  accepts 
of  it,  and  of  course  accepts  of  its  hospitality.  They  "  do  not 
sell  intoxicating  liquors  "  at  this  place,  nothing  but  "  lager- 
beer,"  and  the  like  innocent  drinks!  But  young  men  get 
intoxicated,  and  learn  to  be  drunkards  at  this  place  contin- 
ually, notwithstanding  no  intoxicating  drinks  "  are  allowed  " 
to  be  sold ! 

Is  not  this  the  position  of  thousands  and  tens  of  thousands 


SOLDIERS'   MONUMENTS.  473 

of  the  young  men  of  Massachusetts  to-day  ?  If  so,  ought 
there  not  to  be  an  earnest  eflfort  to  relieve  them  of  the  disa- 
bilities they  suffer  and  dangers  to  which  they  are  exposed  ? 
4nd  what  better  provision  can  we  make  for  them,  than  a 
pleasant,  cheerful,  well-lighted,  and  well-furnished  reading- 
room,  where  all  their  week-day  evenings  can  be  spent  in  read- 
ing or  conversation  ?  How  can  we  more  suitably  do  honor 
to  our  illustrious  dead  than  by  providing  for  the  welfare  and 
happiness  of  those  who  have  survived  them  ? 

We  have  heard  of  but  one  objection  to  the  erection  of  a 
hall  instead  of  a  monument ;  and  that  is,  that  the  former 
may  "  be  burned,  and  then  the  names  be  lost."  There  is  no 
force  in  this  objection  at  the  present  day.  Suppose  the  hall 
destroyed,  the  names  are  all  safe,  —  the  history  of  every  offi- 
cer and  private  is  preserved  in  the  archives  of  the  State,  in 
the  reports  of  the  Adjutant-General  of  the  Commonwealth. 
All  can  be  recovered ;  all  can  be  restored.  Once  it  was  not 
so ;  but  the  time  has  gone  by  when  the  names  of  any  who 
have  honored  and  served  their  country  can  be  buried  in 
oblivion. 

Monuments  of  stone  were  very  well  in  the  days  of  the  Pha- 
raohs, in  dark  and  barbarous  ages,  when  there  were  no  secu- 
rities for  civilization  and  its  works  ;  but  that  day  has  long 
since  passed  by.  We  are  not  obliged  to  build  pyramids,  or 
mausoleums,  or  marble  columns,  to  perpetuate  the  name  and 
fame  of  a  departed  hero.  It  is  an  idle  waste  of  human  labor 
to  do  so.  We  have  better  means,  and  we  should  have  higher 
aims.  We  should  subserve  the  interests  of  the  living,  while 
we  do  honor  to  the  memory  of  the  dead. 


474  HOUSEHOLD   READING. 


HOME    DEBTS. 


*'  "\/r^  husband  and  myself  think  we  oive  as  much  to  each 
-LTX  other  as  to  anybody ;  that  we  should  be  as  painstak- 
ing in  each  other's  society  as  in  the  society  of  friends,  for 
our  mutual  pleasing  as  for  the  pleasing  of  others.  This  is 
the  philosophy  of  our  domestic  economy,  so  that  we  are 
ready  to  receive  our  friends  at  all  times,  and  welcome  them 
without  embarrassment  to  that  which  we  provide  as  good 
enough  for  ourselves." 

Such  was  the  expression  of  a  wife  and  mother,  in  moder- 
ate worldly  circumstances,  with  a  young  family  growing  up 
around  her.  Seldom  has  the  true  philosophy  of  domestic 
life,  and  its  relation  to  social  life,  been  more  happily  or 
profoundly  expressed.  Home,  husband,  family,  are  words 
which  convey  a  wealth  of  practical  meaning,  and  are  rich 
with  the  life  of  the  mind  and  heart  of  her  who  so  thinks  of 
them.  They  were  not  spoken  for  public  ears,  but  the  words 
are  worthy  to  be  repeated  from  every  pulpit,  shouted  along 
our  busy  streets  and  quiet  valleys,  to  be  nailed  to  the  door- 
posts of  every  habitation,  that  all  who  enter  might  read  and 
feel  them,  —  "  husband,  wife,  you  owe  as  much  to  each  other 
as  to  anybody."  None  would  doubt  his  welcome  there,  or 
fear  for  his  happiness.  You  owe  as  much  painstaking,  as 
much  personal  care  to  render  every  meeting  around  the 
family  board,  every  welcome  from  toil  and  care  abroad  to 
rest  at  home,  every  conversation  by  the  cheerful  evening 
fire,  every  communing  with  the  heart  in  which  your  life  is 
hid,  and  out  of  which  must  flow  your  own  joy  or  sorrow, 
pleasing  and  satisfying,  as  you  bestow  upon  tlie  friend  who 
once  a  year  or  month  drops  into  the  sacred  circle  of  your 
domestic  life.  Ah,  this  painstaking,  this  delicacy  of  thought 
and  feeling  and  expression,  how  little  of  it  do  we  see  in  the 
greater   part  of  our  Christian  homes,  when  it  is  said,  "  no- 


HOME  DEBTS.  475 

body  is  here  to-day,"  "  we  are  alone  to-night."  Theio  is 
nobody  for  whom  we  need  to  take  special  pains  to  exert  our- 
selves to  interest  and  delight,  to  whom  we  are  debtors,  for  it 
is  "  only  the  family." 

The  door-bell  rings,  and  the  mother  hurries  away  to  make 
herself  more  lovely  in  dress,  or  remove  the  litter  from  the 
apartment,  and  the  father  bestirs  himself  in  his  equally  ne- 
cessary preparation  for  a  friend,  whom  they  greet  with  glow- 
ing countenances  and  tender  words,  because  they  are  felt  to 
be  duo  to  a  friendly  visitor.  What  an  amount  of  real  im- 
provement has  been  made,  during  the  five  minutes  that  have 
passed  since  they  were  quietly  seated  in  each  other's  society 
around  the  same  hearth,  where  now  they  entertain  and  de- 
light a  friend. 

The  smallest  child  feels  the  change  which  brings  a  new 
joy,  though  the  circle  from  which  the  visitor  has  come  is 
always  made  happier  by  his  or  her  absence.  If  he  comes  to 
dine,  what  new  and  unwonted  attractions  are  added  to  a 
table  already  spread  for  the  husband  and  father,  or  what 
delicacy  will  he  secure  after  a  friend  accepts  his  invitation. 
Why  may  not  the  few  minutes  so  fruitful  of  reforms  give 
zest  to  the  quiet  evening  at  home  or  the  family  dinner, 
where  such  care  would  sweeten  the  daily  bread,  lighten  the 
daily  toil,  divide  or  prevent  life's  sorrows,  give  a  new  relish 
and  value  to  conversation,  and  fill  the  cup  of  domestic  bliss 
to  overflowing.  The  philosophy  of  the  domestic  economy  is 
at  fault,  and  gives  its  chief  concern  to  the  transient  and  ex- 
ternal, and  too  little  to  the  ever-present  and  interior  life.  A 
stranger  eats  the  feast  of  our  attentions,  and  too  gften  of  our 
only  expressed  affections,  and  then  is  gone  forever,  and  leaves 
domestic  happiness  to  starve  upon  the  crumbs  of  our  social 
prodigality.  The  child,  too,  may  often  see  attentions  and 
endearments  lavished  upon  its  companion,  for  a  day  or  hour, 
which  itself  has  never  delighted  in.  The  principle  with 
which  we  began  our  remarks  finds  a  place  as  a  ruling  fact 
in  but  a  few  of  our  homes.     There  is  little  painstaking  to 


476  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

make  tliem  as  attractive  to  those  who  live  in  them  as  to 
those  who  visit  at  them. 

But  there  is  more  due  of  all  that  is  delicate  and  fitted  to 
please  every  sense,  and  the  payment  day  will  come  erelong, 
when  time  brings  forth  fruit  according  to  the  seed  sown. 
Then  all  shall  suffer  loss,  for  domestic  debts  admit  no  day  of 
grace.  Every  day  has  its  own  account,  and  is  its  only  time 
of  discharge.  Let  it  be  thought  upon  and  acted  upon,  that 
the  members  of  the  family  "  owe  more  to  each  other  than  to 
anybody  else,"  —  more  to  domestic  than  to  any  other  rela- 
tions ;  that  home  debts  paid  will  afford  us  the  greatest  means 
for  discharging  all  other  obligations.  If  there  is  carelessness, 
let  a  stranger  bear  it,  and  not  those  whose  very  life  is  daily 
dependent  upon  our  own,  and  on  whom  our  own  depends. 
Home  is  the  garden  of  our  joy. 


LABAN    WHEATON'S    QUESTION. 

ABAN  WHEATON,  SENIOR,  the  founder  of  the  Semi- 
nary at  Norton,  which  bears  his  honored  name,  was  dis- 
tinguished alike  for  his  manly  form  and  vigorous  mind.  The 
dignity  of  his  bearing,  the  decorous  gravity  of  his  counte- 
nance, and  the  full,  clear  tones  of  his  voice,  were  sure  helps 
to  the  classic  diction  and  stern  logic  of  his  discourse,  whether 
in  the  forum,  at  the  bar,  or  in  the  elevated  discussions  of 
more  social  life.  Few  men  of  his  profession  in  Massachusetts 
were  so  wise  counsellors  or  so  successful  advocates. 

Mr.  Wheaton  was  a  member  of  Congress  during  the  stormy 
period  of  Mr.  Madison's  first  Presidential  term.  As  he  was 
no  orator  for  Buncombe,  so  no  member  was  less  likely  to  vex 
the  House  with  flippant  or  impertinent  speeches.  He  spoke 
only  when  he  had  something  to  say,  and  nothing  to  take  back. 


LABAN   WHEATON'S   QUESTION.  477 

t 

If  an  occasion,  however  unexpected,  called  him  to  meet  it, 
his  thoughts  and  his  words  seemed  to  be  as  well  chosen  as  if 
he  had  weighed  them  carefully  for  months,  with  a  distinct 
foresight  of  their  time  of  need.  In  the  course  of  some  stir- 
ring debate,  at  that  period  when  "  trifles  light  as  air  "  were 
■watched  with  eager  suspicion,  Mr.  Wheaton,  in  the  progress 
of  his  speech,  made  some  pertinent  remarks  on  the  subject  of 
slavery,  —  a  topic  then  wholly  tabooed  in  Congress,  where  the 
slave  power  was  holding  an  almost  absolute  supremacy.  The 
allusion  to  that  contraband  subject  was  as  a  spark  to  gunpow- 
der. In  an  instant  a  dozen  hotspurs  sprang  to  their  feet  with 
loud,  rapid,  and  imperative  cries  of  "  Order!  "  One  of  the 
fieriest  of  the  combustibles,  catching  the  eye  of  the  Speaker, 
fiercely  renewed  his  demand  of  order,  exclaiming,  "  Mr. 
Speaker !  the  gentleman  from  Massachusetts  would  excite 
the  slaves  to  cut  their  masters'  throats  !  "  Then,  as  if  having 
fully  exploded,  he  dropped  like  a  stick  into  his  seat. 

Mr.  Wheaton,  still  keeping  the  floor,  calmly  resumed  his 
speech,  very  gravely  putting  the  question,  "  And  why,  Mr. 
Speaker,  should  n't  the  slaves  cut  their  masters'  throats  ? 
We  cut  our  masters'  throats  to  secure  our  liberties,  and  why 
should  n't  they  cut  their  masters'  throats  to  gain  their  liber- 
ties ?  I  put  the  question  to  the  honorable  gentleman  who 
has  so  earnestly  called  me  to  order.  Will  he  have  the  good- 
ness to  answer  it  ?  "  Suffice  it  to  say,  there  was  no  response, 
and  Mr.  Wheaton  finished  his  speech  without  further  inter- 
ruption. 

Though  no  man  would  have  been  slower  to  rouse  the  slaves 
to  blood  than  Mr.  Wheaton,  and  though  no  one  knew  better 
than  he  not  to  be  pertinacious  of  every  right  which  he  miglit 
strictly  challenge  as  his  own,  yet,  when  a  just  and  necessary 
freedom  of  debate  was  domineeringly  and  intolerantly  called 
in  question,  none  was  more  careful,  none  more  prompt,  to 
poise  himself  on  that  right,  and  to  vindicate  it  with  manly 
honor.  Nor  in  that  defence  did  he  neglect  to  reassert,  by  a 
question  full-fraught  with  the  spirit  of  liberty,  the  inborn  and 


478  HOUSEHOLD   READING. 

inalienable  rights  of  mankind,  the  right  of  the  black  as  well 
as  the  white  bondman  to  break  his  chain,  and  to  lift  him 
self  up  from  his  low  servitude  to  the  dignity  and  manhood 
of  a  freeman.  He  saw  no  "  rhetorical  flour  ish,^^  no  ^'■glittering 
generality^''  nothing  to  be  mocked  at  with  sneering  contempt 
in  that  great  safeguard  of  humanity  so  solemnly  published  to 
the  world  by  the  collected  wisdom  of  this  new  nation,  and  so 
triumphantly  vindicated  by  the  sacrifices  and  achievements  of 
a  seven-years'  war  with  the  strongest  and  haughtiest  power 
of  the  Old  World. 

That  timely  question,  as  yet  unanswered,  had,  when  put, 
a  fulness  of  meaning  which  a  later,  but  less  experienced  age 
scarcely  comprehends  or  dreams  of.  Its  rebuke  of  the  inso- 
lent tyranny  which  had  brought  its  whip  from  the  plantation 
to  the  Congress  of  a  free  Republic  was  both  a  sarcasm  and 
an  argument,  against  the  point  and  edge  of  which  there  was 
neither  shield  nor  hope.  The  cowardice  of  the  attack  was 
equalled  only  by  the  cowardice  of  the  retreat,  a  counterpart 
which  Nature  herself  has  fitted  for  the  protection  of  all  rights 
from  usurpation  and  tyranny.  The  man,  the  people,  that  will 
be  free  must  dare  to  be  so.  If  wisdom  must  8eek,  courage 
must  make  opportunities.  What  to  the  coward,  the  heartless 
in  Church  or  State,  seems  only  a  murky  failure,  is  to  the 
brave  a  brilliant  success.  The  one  sees  the  beginning  in  the 
end,  the  other  the  end  in  the  beginning.  The  one  looks  only 
at  the  gallows,  the  other  scorns  it  for  the  unfading  light 
which  shines  from  the  heaven  beyond  it. 


CHRIST   AS  A  PREACHER.  479 


THE    DARKENED    CAGE. 

IT  is  a  curious  fact,  that,  wliile  some  birds  refuse  to  sing 
when  the  cage  is  darkened,  others  have  softer,  sweeter 
notes  of  song.  And  so  it  is  in  human  existence.  When  the 
soul  of  one  comes  under  "  tlie  shadow  of  a  great  affliction," 
it  has  no  longer  the  voice  of  melody.  The  resources  and  the 
heart  of  joy  are  gone.  But  another  sits  in  shadow,  and  sends 
up  to  God  the  purest  tones  of  music,  the  loftiest  strains  of 
praise,  from  the  chastened  spirit.  It  was  thus  with  David, 
whose  harpings  are  never  so  heavenly  as  when  they  rise  from 
"  the  depths  "  of  his  sorrow.  It  is  not  strange  that  those 
are  dumb  when  "  the  days  of  darkness  come,"  whose  song 
of  delight  lived  only  in  the  glare  of  earth's  fitfal,  transient 
splendor. 


CHRIST    AS    A    PREACHER. 

THE  best  method  of  presenting  the  Gospel  to  the  men  of 
our  day  has  been  somewhat  discussed  in  the  "  Congre- 
gationalist,"  and  I  have  been  interested  in  the  arguments  for 
and  against  the  written  or  the  unwritten  discourse,  —  inter- 
ested, but  not  satisfied.  As  the  great  object  of  the  preacher 
is,  without  controversy,  to  preach  Christ,  it  has  seemed  to  me 
strange  that  so  little  account  has  been  made  of  Chrisfs  oivn 
method  in  preaching.  I  do  not  now  call  to  mind  that  it  has 
once  even  been  directly  referred  to,  as  of  the  smallest  impor- 
tance in  settling  this  mooted  question.  Now,  for  the  purpose 
of  drawing  out  something  on  the  subject  from  abler  pens, 
rather  than  with  the  hope  of  enlightening  others  myself,  I 
wish  to  call  attention  to  some  facts  of  the  record,  and  pro- 
pose some  queries  in  reference  thereto. 


480  HOUSEHOLD  BEADING. 

1.  The  Master  adopted,  in  his  preaching,  the  unwritten 
method  exclusively. 

2.  His  speech  was  of  the  simplest  possible  character.  All 
he  sought  of  language,  apparently,  was  to  carry  the  thought 
to  his  hearer. 

3.  He  made  almost  no  use,  if  any,  of  what  would  be  called 
graces  in  style  or  oratory,  delivering  his  discourses  mostly 
while  sitting,  in  conversational  style,  with  abundant  illustra- 
tion from  common,  and,  generally,  passing  events  and  objects. 

4.  This  was  through  no  lack  of  ability  or  poverty  of  re- 
source. He  could,  if  he  had  chosen,  have  electrified  the  in- 
tellect and  ravished  the  imagination.  He  could  have  swept 
the  chords  of  feeling  with  a  master's  hand,  and  taken  the  sen- 
sibilities captive.  Eloquence  and  poetry  and  passion  would 
have  yielded  him  all  their  highest  powers,  if  he  had  only 
willed  it ;  but  he  did  not.  Burning  and  vivid  description  of 
past,  present,  or  future,  the  joys  of  heaven  and  the  woes  of 
hell,  he  might  have  given  as  no  Chrysostom  or  Whitefield 
ever  could  ;  but  he  never  dilated  on  either.  Never  man 
spake  like  this  man,  might  be  said  of  him  in  these  respects, 
in  a  very  different  sense  from  that  in  which  the  words  are 
usually  accepted.  Such  simplicity,  such  reticence,  stands 
alone  in  its  own  divinity. 

And  now  let  me  present  a  few  queries  that  are  suggested 
by  this  state  of  facts. 

1.  Was  this  extreme  simplicity  in  his  method  of  preaching 
due  solely  to  the  age  in  which  he  lived  and  to  the  habits  of 
the  people  whom  he  addressed  ? 

2.  Was  there  any  special  reason  in  his  character  or  mission 
that  would  forbid  his  being  the  great  exemplar  of  the  preacher 
through  succeeding  ages  ? 

3.  Granting  the  difference  in  the  habits  of  Oriental  and 
Occidental  nations,  and  the  higher  style  of  modern  civilization, 
is  not  the  contrast  too  great  between  the  standard  of  preaching 
as  approved  and  practised  by  the  Master,  and  that  of  the 
present  day  ? 


DEPARTED  FRIENDS.  481 

4.  If  Christ  should  again  appear  among  us  as  a  simple,  un- 
known minister,  exhibiting  the  same  disregard  of  the  graces 
of  style  and  of  eloquence,  conforming,  of  course,  so  far  as  he 
would  deem  needful,  to  the  modern  habits  of  thought,  what 
standing  would  he  be  accorded  among  ministers,  and  to  how 
many  of  our  churches  would  he  be  welcomed  as  a  preacher  ? 

I  cannot  doubt  but  there  would  be  a  power  of  attraction 
that  would  sooner  or  later  draw  to  him  all  who  allowed  them- 
selves to  know  him,  and  I  think  it  would  be  admitted,  as  a 
curious  thing,  that  there  was  a  marvellous  power  in  his  simple 
talk.     But  I  query  much  if  the  current  opinion  would  not  be 

something  like  this :  "  Brother is  not  a  great  man,  but 

he  is  a  good  man.  He  is  a  lovely  Christian,  if  he  is  not  much 
of  a  preacher  "  ;  and  some  would  add,  charitably,  "  Wo  believe 
he  might  excel  as  a  preacher,  if  it  were  not  for  his  morbid 
dread  of  anything  that  savored  of  show  or  display." 


DEPARTED    FRIENDS. 

"  Die,  Heir,  zu  deiner  Ruhe  kommen.' 

HOW  blest,  O  Lord,  the  tranquil  slumber, 
Of  those  who  to  thy  rest  have  come, 
And  join  to  swell  the  happy  number 

Who  there  have  found  a  lasting  home ! 
On  earth  with  toils  and  cares  oppressed, 
In  heaven  they  now  forever  rest. 

There  in  that  bright  celestial  dwelling 
They  join  the  sweet  angeUc  strain,  — 

That  song,  all  earthly  songs  excelling, 
"  Worthy  the  Lamb,  for  he  was  slain ! " 

Redeemed  from  earth  by  him  alone, 

They  cast  their  crowns  before  his  throne. 
31 


482  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

Our  Father !  while  on  earth  abiding, 
May  we  their  faith  and  patience  share, 

And  to  thy  heaven  our  footsteps  guiding, 
Give  us  to  meet  among  them  there. 

So  shall  thy  praise  our  lips  employ 

Through  ages  of  eternal  joy. 


"GOOD    AT    A    BARGAIN." 

THIS  was  the  praise  which  Mr.  Hallett  oftenest  bestowed 
on  his  eldest  and  favorite  son.  When  he  first  wore 
jackets,  Ned  proved  himself  an  adept  in  small  trades,  swap- 
ping off  his  worn-out  and  damaged  toys  for  the  better  ones 
of  his  playmates. 

Before  he  was  ten  years  old,  he  had  changed  knives  a  half- 
dozen  times  or  more,  making  a  good  bargain  each  time,  until 
he  was  the  owner  of  a  double-bladed,  pearl-handled  one,  of 
the  best  make,  instead  of  the  broken  jackknife,  bought  with 
his  school  dinner,  with  which  he  had  begun  the  knife  busi- 
ness. 

Of  course  some  persons  suffered  loss  for  his  gain,  but  this, 
he  professed  to  think,  was  nothing  to  him.  "  Look  out  for 
number  one,"  was  his  motto.  If  he  had  ever  heard  the  com- 
mand, "  Thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbor  as  thyself,"  he  paid  no 
attention  to  it.  His  compassion  was  never  moved  by  the 
pain  and  regret  of  his  victims,  those  whom  he  had  duped ; 
and  when  they  plead  with  him  for  redress,  he  coolly  claimed 
that  he  had  made  a  fair  bargain,  that  they  had  eyes  and  ears, 
and  could  look  out  for  themselves  as  well  as  he  for  himself. 

He  tricked  a  poor  little  fellow  out  of  a  silver  pencil-case, 
which  he  had  received  for  a  birthday  present,  by  fascinating 
him  with  a  whistle  of  trifling  value.  When  the  first  charm 
of  the  whistle  was  gone,  and  the  tender  birthday  remem 


"  GOOD   AT   A   BARGAIN."  483 

orauces  connected  with  the  pencil  had  come  back  to  the 
victimized  cliild,  he  urged  Ned  to  receive  again  his  whistle, 
ond  restore  him  his  pencil.  He  added  inducements,  but 
Ned  was  not  to  be  moved.  He  had  the  best  of  the  bargain, 
and  he  kept  it. 

In  similar  ways  he  obtained  a  wealth  of  boys'  treasures,  to 
the  admiration  of  his  companions,  and  his  own  great  delight. 
But  was  he  happy  ?  Surely  not.  Has  God  made  the  soul 
to  be  satisfied  with  knives,  pencil-cases,  balls,  and  tops  ? 
Can  a  boy  be  happy  when  he  is  full  of  selfishness,  meanness, 
deception,  and  unkindness  ?  He  may  laugh,  he  may  sing, 
he  may  talk  largely,  and  walk  proudly,  but  he  must  be 
wretched.  "  There  is  no  peace,  saith  my  God,  to  the 
wicked." 

Ned  was  once  sent  by  his  father  to  buy  himself  a  pair  of 
shoes.  He  was  to  buy  such  as  are  usually  sold  for  a  dollar 
and  a  half.  With  his  habitual  acuteness,  he  obtained  the 
promise  that,  in  case  he  could  buy  them  for  less,  he  should 
have  the  surplus  money.  At  the  shoe-store  he  found  such 
shoes  as  he  wanted,  and  tried  them  on,  but  complained  that 
they  did  not  fit.  He  tried  pair  after  pair,  with  the  same  com- 
plaint. At  last  he  found  some  for  which  he  thought  he 
could  make  a  good  bargain,  since  one  of  them  had  a  defect 
in  the  leather  in  a  place  where  neither  strain  nor  wear  could 
come.  He  tried  them  on,  pronounced  them  a  perfect  fit, 
examined  them,  dwelt  upon  the  flaw,  condemned  them,  and 
flung  them  aside. 

He  tried  other  shoes,  but  none  of  them  suited  him.  The 
salesman  recommended  several  pairs  ;  biit  no,  they  pinched 
him.     Ned  said  he  could  not  endure  them. 

At  last  he  pretended  to  be  discouraged,  and  took  up  the 
defective  pair,  declaring  them  the  only  pair  that  fitted  him, 
and  expressing  his  deep  regret  that  they  were  not  perfect. 
The  salesman  examined  them,  and  pronounced  the  defect 
unimportant.  Ned  re-examined,  complained,  and  regretted 
again.     The  salesman,  growing  weary,  offered  them  at  a  re- 


484  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

duced  price ,  Ned  offered  a  still  lower  price,  tried  the  shoes 
again,  threw  them  from  him,  and  rose  to  leave  the  store. 

The  salesman,  unwilling  to  lose  a  customer,  wrapped  up 
the  shoes,  and  handed  them  to  him,  saying,  "  There,  take 
them  at  your  own  price." 

Ned  took  them,  and  left  the  store,  greatly  pleased  with  his 
cunning  and  its  success,  triumphant.  He  had  saved  a  quarter 
of  a  dollar  for  himself.  He  had  haggled,  deceived,  had  been 
mean,  had  been  false,  for  a  quarter  of  a  dollar,  and  he  was 
satisfied !  Are  good  behavior,  manlines,  justice,  honesty, 
worth  no  more  ?  What !  will  any  one  sell  his  truth,  his 
honor,  his  good  conscience,  for  money?  Ned  sold  his  for 
twenty-five  cents,  well  pleased  with  the  bargain. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  that  ?  "  he  said  to  his  father  as  he 
boastfully  exhibited  his  purchase,  and  the  silver  he  had  re- 
tained. 

"  You  always  were  good  at  a  bargain,  Ned,"  was  his  fa- 
ther's complacent  answer.  "  I  could  n't  have  done  as  well. 
These  shoes  are  well  worth  a  dollar  and  a  half." 

But  he  did  not  tell  Ned  that  he  ought  to  have  paid  the  full 
price  for  them.  He  had  never  taught  him  that  every  man 
should  have  a  fair  equivalent  for  his  property.  On  the  con- 
trary, he  had  encouraged  him  in  taking  advantage  of  others 
by  praising  his  tricks  in  trade,  commending  him  as  "  good  at 
a  bargain." 

Grown  to  manhood,  Ned  Hallett  still  cultivated  and  prac- 
tised his  sharpness,  and  for  a  time  with  success.  But  he  be- 
came known,  and  people  were  suspicious  and  watchful,  and 
gave  him  few  opportunities  to  make  his  good  bargains. 

At  last  his  skill  and  cunning  were  employed  in  an  insur- 
ance fraud,  which  was  discovered,  and  led  to  his  conviction 
and  imprisonment.  His  father  was  an  anxious  listener  at  his 
trial,  but  no  one  could  think  that  he  had  any  satisfaction  in 
the  sharpness  then  developed. 

When  the  shameful  and  dread  sentence  of  guilt  was  pro- 
nounced, he  covered  his  face  with  his  hands.     He  could  not 


MARANATHA.  485 

look  upon  the  son  whom  he  had  helped  to  ruin,  whom  he  had 
encouraged  in  his  first  steps  toward  crime. 

It  was  a  heart-sickening  scene  when  father  and  son  first 
met  in  the  narrow  prison-cell.  Eacli  looked  at  the  other  with 
reproach.  Each  blamed  the  other  for  the  pain  and  shame  he 
suffered. 

"  This  is  a  bad  bargain,  Ned,"  said  the  old  njan,  weakly. 
"  You  've  ruined  us  all." 

"  Ruined  you  !  Who  ruined  me  ?  "  exclaimed  the  prisoner, 
in  a  tone  that  stung  the  old  man  to  the  heart.  "  /was  ruined 
when  you  called  me '  good  at  a  bargain '  instead  of  dishonest, 
when  you  praised  my  trickery  instead  of  punishing  it.  '  Good 
at  a  bargain,'  when  for  knives  and  pencil-cases  I  must  pay  in 
prison-walls,  convict  labor,  and  a  felon's  name !  Call  you  a 
man  '  good  at  a  bargain '  when  he  sells  even  his  soul  for  a 
bawble  ?  for  a  piece  of  gold  ?  " 


MARANATHA. 


WHAT  single  verse  of  the  Bible  contains  more  that  is 
suited  to  awaken  anxious  inquiry  than  is  the  one  con- 
taining the  word  heading  this  article  ?  "If  any  man  love  not 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  let  him  be  anathema ;   maranatha." 

The  original  word,  here  rendered  any  man,  is  the  same 
found  in  Christ's  address  to  Nicodemus,  "  Except  a  man  be 
born  again,  he  cannot  see  the  kingdom  of  God  "  ;  and  it  is  the 
most  comprehensive  possible.  By  anatheina  is  meant  what  is 
devoted  to  destruction  ;  an  accursed  thing  or  person.  Applied 
to  the  latter,  it  denotes  one  excluded  from  the  favor  of  God, 
and  delivered  over  .to  perpetual  despair.  MaranaiJia  is  a 
"  Syro-Chaldee  expression  signifying  '  the  Lord  is  to  come, 
i.  e.  will  come  to  take  vengeance  on  the  disobedient  and 
vicious.,'  " 


486  feOl/SEHOLD   READING. 

What  constitutes  a  person,  anathema  ?  By  doing  or  bj  not 
doing  what,  will  an  accountable  being  on  earth  become  ac- 
cursed, devoted  to  destruction  ?  The  passage  of  Scripture 
already  quoted  informs  us.  "  If  any  man  love  not  the  Lord 
'^esus  Christ,''^  he  is  anathema.  It  is  not,  then,  necessary  that 
an  individual  should  be  extravagantly  wicked  in  the  estima- 
tion of  the  world,  in  order  to  be  accursed.  Not  a  single  out- 
ward act  of  transgression  is  requisite  to  render  one  anathema. 
He  may  be  such,  while  regarded  as  a  model  of  politeness  in 
the  fashionable  world.  A  person  may  be  adorned  with  the 
highest  intellectual  gifts  and  acquirements,  yet  be  anathema. 
Simply  a  lack  of  love  to  Christ  brings  one  under  this  con- 
demning term.  This  is  what  the  Holy  Ghost  affirms,  and  we 
do  not  believe  that  he  has  said  aught  anywhere  which  demands 
more  serious  meditation.  They  are  anathema  that  do  not 
love  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  tvho  are  they  that  fall  thus 
under  condemnation  ?  Who  have  not  such  love  ?  Are  in- 
stances rare  or  of  frequent  occurrence  in  which  it  is  want- 
ing? Would  it  be  difficult  to  find  an  individual,  whether 
young  or  old,  who  is  anathema,  because  he  loves  not  the  Me- 
diator ?  Is  it  probable  that  ten  of  such  could  be  found  in 
any  community  of  a  thousand  souls  ? 

The  Lord  Jesus  Christ !  He  is  altogether  lovely  ;  the  be- 
loved of  the  Father  ;  the  compassionate  friend  of  sinners  ;  the 
world's  Saviour.  Who  can  read  the  holy  records  of  his  com- 
ing, and  doing,  and  suffering,  without  loving  him  ?  Does  not 
every  knee,  where  Jesus  is  known,  bend  in  adoration  of  him? 
Can  there  be  a  heart  which  does  not  glow  with  pure  and  en- 
rapturing delight  in  him  ?  If  any  man  do  not  feel  thus  to- 
ward him,  how  must  the  delinquent's  rational  powers  all  cry 
out  against  him  !  Surely  reason  commands  the  heart  to  love 
God's  Son,  sincerely  and  supremely.  Every  honoralile  motive 
prompts  to  the  same  course.  What  is  the  actual  state  of  the 
case  ?  How  do  most  persons  stand  affected  toward  the  Sav- 
iour ?  Is  he  enthroned  within  them  ?  In  the  pre? ence  of  Him 
who  searches  the  heart,  what,  reader,  is  thy  response  ?     Dost 


MARANATHA.  487 

thou  love  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  ?  Art  thou  an  anathema  or 
not  ?  By  thj  fruits  thou  mayst  know  thyself.  Is  the  will 
of  the  Messiah  thy  law  of  life  ?  Canst  thou,  for  Christ's 
sake,  part  with  a  foot,  a  hand,  or  an  eye  ?  "Wouldst  thou 
burn  at  the  stake,  rather  than  forsake  this  holy  Master  ?  Art 
thou  hated  of  the  world,  because  thou  belongest  unto  the 
Saviour  ?  "  If  ye  were  of  the  world,  the  world  would  love 
his  own ;  but  because  ye  are  not  of  the  world,  but  I  have 
chosen  you  out  of  the  world,  therefore  the  world  hateth 
you."  Thus  spake  Jesus  to  his  disciples,  and  furnished 
them  with  one  test  of  attachment  to  himself.  "  The  prince 
of  this  world  cometh,"  said  the  Saviour,  "  and  hath  nothing 
in  me."  How  much  of  a  hold  has  tlmt prince  upon  thee?  Is 
thy  "  life  hid  with  Christ  in  God  "  ? 

The  above  questions  have  been  varied  and  multiplied,  to 
assist  the  reader  to  settle  the  point  whether  or  not  he  is  an 
anathema.  For  "  if  any  person  love  not  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,"  he  is  anathema.  0  what  terror  this  Divine  an- 
noimcement  contains  for  those  destitute  of  the  specified 
love  !     Alas  !  what  numbers  are  without  it ! 

It  is  not  difficult  to  find  persons  who  have  no  more  afiec- 
tion  for  Immanuel  than  have  the  rocks  of  the  earth.  Ah, 
the  difficulty  is  in  finding  examples  of  devout  attachment  to 
Jesus.  Omniscient  God,  thou  seest  thy  well-beloved  Son 
despised  of  men.  The  great  majority  of  all  to  whom  he 
is  named  hate  him  with  all  the  heart.  We  seem  to  see 
anathemas  falling  in  showers  upon  every  community.  0 
thou  Most  High !  in  thy  presence  myriads  are  labelling  them- 
selves as  candidates  for  a  woful  eternity.  Upon  their  own 
souls  they  are  writing  the  designation,  —  anathema. 


488  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 


THE    SILENCE    OP    SCRIPTURE. 

THERE  are  many  things  not  revealed  to  us  in  "  the  Ora- 
cles of  God  "  which  we  are  very  desirous  to  know.  "We 
sometimes  wonder  why  the  curtain  hiding  these  things  is 
dropped,  when  other  matters,  which  we  account  of  far  less  in- 
terest to  us,  have  so  much  light  shed  upon  them.  Had  it 
devolved  upon  us  to  have  made  a  volume  for  the  instruction 
of  mankind,  and  had  all  knowledge  been  committed  to  us  for 
this  purpose,  we  should  probably  have  made  known  the 
nature  of  the  sin,  and  particulars  of  the  fall  of  the  apostate 
angels  ;  have  unfolded  more  minute  descriptions  of  the  in- 
visible world,  the  relations  of  the  departed  dead  to  the  liv- 
ing ;  many  items  touching  the  personal  appearance,  domestic 
habits,  and  childhood  of  Christ ;  the  manner  in  which  he 
passed  his  time  between  his  resurrection  and  ascension  ;  a 
much  more  full  statement  relative  to  Mary  his  mother ; 
many  forms  of  prayer  instead  of  one  form ;  and  an  exact  form 
for  the  administration  of  Gospel  ordinances,  instead  of  no 
form  whatever.  This  we  probably  should  have  done,  be- 
cause that  communications  on  these  points  would  be  es- 
pecially welcome  to  the  curiosity  of  men  is  apparent  from 
the  fact  that  this  deficiency  apocryphal  Gospels,  Moham- 
med, Swedenborg,  Romanists,  and  Mormons  have  endeavored 
to  supply. 

Now  the  sacred  penmen  doubtless  felt  as  we  do.  They  had 
curiosity  as  well  as  we,  and  as  strong  as  we,  for  they  were 
flesh  and  blood  as  we  are.  Had  they,  then,  been  left  to  them- 
selves, they  would  have  discoursed  upon  these  very  subjects 
which  we  have  specified.  They  would  have  deemed  such  a 
course  peculiarly  fit  and  important.  Had  uninspired  men 
written  the  Bible,  knowing  how  glad  they  themselves  would 
have  been  to  be  informed  of  curious  matters,  and  aware  that 
others  were  like  themselves  in  this  particular,  and  conse- 


THE  SILENCE  OF  SCEIPTUBE.  489 

qucntly  that  a  book  imparting  knowledge  on  these  topics  of 
inquiry  would  be  eagerly  sought,  they  would  not  have  failed 
to  make  their  volume  popular  and  attractive  by  teaching  con- 
cerning them.  And  why  have  they  not  so  done  ?  Simply 
because  they  were  under  the  guidance  of  a  Power  above 
themselves !  They  "  wrote  as  they  were  moved  to  write  by 
the  Holy  Ghost,"  wrote  "  what  the  Spirit  within  them  signi- 
fied," and  that  only. 

Hence  the  very  silence  of  Scripture  is  evidence  of  the  in- 
spiration of  Scripture.  Truly  is  it  observed  by  Archbishop 
Whately,  "  The  Christian  revelation  stands  distinguished  from 
all  other  religions  in  its  omission  of  everything  that  would 
serve  merely  to  pamper  vain  curiosity.  We  have  in  the  con- 
trast thus  presented,  in  the  wisdom  and  dignified  simplicity 
of  the  Scriptures  with  the  idle  and  arrogant  pretensions  of 
human  fraud  and  folly,  a  plain  proof  that  our  Scriptures  were 
not  of  man's  devising,  that  no  impostor  would,  and  no  enthu- 
siast could,  have  written  them." 

Was  the  Bible  a  human  production,  it  would  be  found  at- 
tempting to  clear  up  those  mysteries  which  now  perplex 
mortals,  and  essaying  to  open  up  avenues  of  light  to  those 
things  into  which  mankind  earnestly  desire  to  look. 

Says  Trench,  in  his  Hulsean  Lectures :  "  It  is  not  only  what 
Scripture  says,  but  its  very  silence,  which  is  instructive  for 
us.  It  was  remarked  by  one  wise  man  of  another,  that  more 
might  be  learned  from  his  questions  than  from  another  man's 
answers.  With  yet  higher  truth  might  it  be  said  that  the 
silence  of  Scripture  is  more  instructive  than  the  speech  of 
other  books." 

Not  from  neglect,  but  from  wise  design,  are  the  utterances 
of  Scripture  confined  within  their  present  range.  It  is  well 
that  "  the  Oracles  of  God  "  are  silent  where  man  would  have 
them  speak ;  for  it  shows  that  they  are  "  the  Oracles  of  Crodj 
and  not  of  man,  —  the  Oracles  of  Him  "  whose  glory  it  is 
to  conceal  a  thing,"  though  thereby  the  pride  of  creatures  is 
humbled,  and  the  curiosity  of  creatures  disappomtetl. 


490  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 


LILY    BELL. 

WHEN  the  autumn  winds  were  sighing 
All  among  the  leafless  trees, 
And  the  autumn  leaves  were  dying, 
Floating  down  on  every  breeze  ; 
"Where  the  chilly,  damp  winds  dally 

With  the  trembling  asphodel, 
Down  into  the  silent  valley 
"Went  our  darling  Lily  Bell. 

Angel  bands  we  knew  were  waking 

Sweetest  music  for  her  ear, 
And  our  weary  hearts  were  breaking, 

"While  she  knew  no  shade  of  fear. 
Angel  bands  were  bending  o'er  her, 

And  she  heard  their  music  swell ; 
Heaven's  bright  gate  was  just  before  her, 

Darling,  loving  Lily  Bell. 

"Where  the  pale,  sweet  blossoms  quiver 

By  the  dark  and  swelling  tide. 
Entered  she  the  silent  river  ; 

Soon  she  gained  the  other  side. 
Angels  welcomed  her  to  heaven, 

Evermore  with  Christ  to  dwell, 
And  a  golden  harp  was  given 

To  our  darling  Lily  Bell. 

So  we  smoothed  the  golden  tresses 

From  the  pallid  marble  brow ; 
And  with  many  fond  caresses 

Touched  the  lip  and  cheek  of  snow. 
Then  we  brought  a  snow-white  blossom, 

For  she  loved  the  flowers  full  well, 
And  we  placed  it  on  the  bosom 

Of  our  darling  Lily  Bell. 


OUR   SENIOR  DEACON.  491 

And  we  twined  some  fragrant  flowers 

'Mid  her  clustering,  golden  hair; 
Oft  in  morning's  dewy  hours 

Had  she  gathered  such  to  wear. 
Then,  where  autumn  leaves  had  shaded 

All  the  quiet  woodland  dell, 
And  the  blossoms  fair  had  faded, 

Laid  our  darling  Lily  Bell. 


OUR    SENIOR    DEACON. 

WE  think  our  Senior  Deacon  is  a  good  man,  a  sincere 
friend  of  Christ  and  the  Church.  But  he  has  such 
an  odd  way  of  showing  his  piety  that  many  have  little  con- 
fidence in  it.  He  is  generous  to  a  fault ;  will  labor  and 
deny  himself  for  the  cause  of  Christ,  and  the  interests  of  the 
Church.  Though  a  poor  man,  he  will  give  liberally  for  the 
support  of  the  Gospel,  and  for  the  house  of  God,  and  for 
missions.  He  gives  from  principle,  cheerfully.  But  then 
his  money  must  be  expended  precisely  according  to  his  plan, 
or  there  will  be  trouble  in  the  church  and  society.  If  others 
decline  to  give  according  to  their  means,  he  would,  if  pos- 
sible, force  them  to  do  it.  He  is  a  man  of  power,  and  he 
knows  it,  and  will  make  others  feel  it.  While  the  cause  ad- 
vances, he  is  hopeful,  and  zealous,  and  useful. 

He  is  industrious  and  fond  of  business,  always  ready  for  a 
new  enterprise.  He  will  rise  early  and  work  late,  if  he  can 
only  at  once  see  the  visible  effects  of  his  labor.  He  is  ex- 
tremely impatient  if  he  can't  see  energetic  action  in  the 
Church. 

He  is  very  ingenious,  able  to  construct  machinery,  and  al- 
most any  kind  of  building,  from  a  vessel  to  a  dwelling-house. 
It  is  said  he  can  build  a  church  and  scat  it,  and,  with  a  little 
aid,  organize  the  body  to  occupy  it,  and  feels  confident  that 


492  HOUSEHOLD  READING- 

if  he  could  hire  a  minister  of  the  right  kind  he  could  run  the 
whole  machine.  He  has  a  plan  for  carrying  on  everything  of 
this  kind,  and  feels  sure  of  success  if  others  would  only  fall 
in  with  him,  and  lend  him  their  aid.  He  thinks  that  if  we 
only  put  the  machine  in  order,  and  then  apply  the  power,  we 
shall  inevitably  obtain  the  result.  He  does  not  deny  the  in- 
fluences of  the  Spirit,  but  says  it  is  promised,  and  he  would 
vigorously  apply  the  means  to  secure  a  revival  at  once.  If 
the  iron  is  blunt,  he  would  put  forth  more  strength.  If  the 
iron  is  too  cold  and  hard  to  be  shaped,  he  would  smite  it  till 
it  gets  heated. 

His  peculiarities  are  prominent,  and  he  seems  proud  of  them, 
and  nurses  them  so  that  they  grow  with  his  age,  become  more 
apparent  and  unyielding.  Though  younger  than  his  pastor 
in  age  and  in  his  religious  life,  he  imagines  he  has  vastly 
more  experience.  He  reasons  as  if  a  man  of  education  and 
reading  cannot  be  a  man  of  observation  and  experience.  In 
his  opinion,  his  own  experience  is  worth  more  than  the  expe- 
rience of  all  his  brethren. 

He  has  one  habit  which  I  have  been  sorry  to  notice  in 
some  preachers.  It  is  a  habit  of  fretting  and  finding  fault 
with  the  coldness  and  carelessness  of  the  Church,  when  the 
cold  and  careless  ones  that  need  the  rebuke  are  mostly  ab- 
sent. Why  is  it  that  some  preachers  are  so  pleasing  and 
laudatory  in  fair  weather,  when  the  house  is  filled  with 
worldly  professors  and  impenitent  hearers,  and  on  the  next 
stormy  Sabbath  (when  the  worldlings,  self-satisfied,  are  at 
home)  pour  out  the  vials  of  their  censure  on  the  few  faithful 
ones  that  have  denied  themselves  and  exposed  themselves  to 
get  to  the  house  of  God  ? 

Though  getting  old,  the  Deacon  is  fond  of  new  things. 
He  is  opposed  to  a  permanent  ministry,  and  believes  in  evan- 
gelists and  stated  supplies.  He  believes  the  world  is  going 
faster,  and  if  we  would  keep  up  with  the  times,  we  must 
often  get  fresh  hands,  and  use  engines  operating  upon  the 
high-pressure  principle.     He  would  put  the  Ark  of  the  Lord 


NO   SECT  IN  HEAVEN.  493 

in  a  new  cai't,  and  propel  it  by  locomotives  of  the  highest 
power  constructed  with  the  last  improvements.  His  oddities 
and  eccentricities  render  him  unpopular,  and  some  say  there 
is  a  streak  of  monomania  in  his  mind ;  but  others  affirm 
that  "  there  is  method  in  his  madness,"  and  adduce  facts  to 
prove  it. 

His  poverty  will  doubtless  follow  him  through  life ;  for  he  is 
so  enamored  of  the  credit  system,  that  he  has  no  sooner  paid 
one  debt  than  he  contracts  two  more  if  he  can.  The  hardest 
charges  against  him  respect  his  pecuniary  affairs.  He  has  a 
horror  of  that  text,  "  Owe  no  man  anything  "  ;  and  I  hardly 
know  how  he  could  endure  a  faithful  sermon  on  that  text. 
Of  course,  his  earnest  prayers  and  generous  contributions  are 
by  many  counted  of  little  value. 

How  sad  is  the  fact  that  many  religious  men  of  talent, 
energy,  and  influence  will,  by  such  means,  paralyze  their 
moral  powers  and  destroy  their  usefulness ! 


NO   SECTS   IN  HEAVEN. 

TALKING  of  sects  quite  late  one  eve, 
What  one  and  another  of  saints  believe, 
That  night  I  stood  in  a  troubled  dream 
By  the  side  of  a  darkly-flowing  stream. 

And  a  "  Churchman"  down  to  the  river  came, 
When  I  heard  a  strange  voice  call  his  name, 
"  Good  father,  stop ;  when  you  cross  this  tide 
You  must  leave  your  robes  on  the  other  side." 

But  the  aged  father  did  not  mind, 
And  his  long  gown  floated  out  behind 
As  down  to  the  stream  his  way  he  took, 
His  hands  firm  hold  of  a  gilt-edged  book. 


494  HOUSEHOLD  BEADING. 

"  I  'm  bound  for  heaven,  and  when  I  'm  there 
I  shall  want  my  book  of  Common  Prayer, 
And  though  I  put  on  a  starry  crown, 
I  should  feel  quite  lost  without  my  gown." 

Then  he  fixed  his  eye  on  the  shining  track, 
But  his  gown  w^as  heavy  and  held  him  back. 
And  the  poor  old  father  tried  in  vain 
A  single  step  in  the  flood  to  gain. 

I  saw  him  again  on  the  other  side, 
But  his  silk  gown  floated  on  the  tide. 
And  no  one  asked,  in  that  blissful  spot, 
If  he  belonged  to  "  The  Church  "  or  not. 

Then  down  to  the  river  a  Quaker  strayed, 
His  dress  of  a  sober  hue  was  made, 
"  My  hat  and  coat  must  be  all  of  gray, 
I  cannot  go  any  other  way." 

Then  he  buttoned  his  coat  straight  up  to  his  chin 
And  staidly,  solemnly,  waded  in. 
And  his  broad-brimmed  hat  he  pulled  down  tight 
Over  his  forehead,  so  cold  and  white. 

But  a  strong  wind  carried  away  his  hat. 
And  he  sighed  a  few  moments  over  that, 
And  then,  as  he  gazed  to  the  farther  shore, 
The  coat  slipped  oflP,  and  was  seen  no  more. 

Poor,  dying  Quaker,  thy  suit  of  gray 

Is  quietly  sailing  —  away  —  away. 

But  thou  'It  go  to  heaven,  as  straight  as  an  arrow, 

Whether  thy  brim  be  broad  or  narrow. 

Next  came  Dr.  Watts  with  a  bundle  of  psalms 
Tied  nicely  up  in  his  aged  arms, 
.  And  hynms  as  many  —  a  very  wise  thing. 
That  the  people  in  heaven,  "  all  round,"  might  sing. 


NO   SECTS  IN  HEAVEN.  495 

But  I  thought  that  he  heaved  an  anxious  sigh, 
As  he  saw  that  the  river  ran  broad  and  high, 
And  looked  rather  surprised,  as,  one  by  one. 
The  Psalms  and  Hymns  in  the  wave  went  down. 

And  after  him,  with  his  MSS., 

Came  Wesley,  the  pattern  of  godliness. 

But  he  cried,  "  Dear  me,  what  shall  I  do  ? 

The  water  has  soaked  them  through  and  through." 

And  there,  on  the  river,  far  and  wide, 
Away  they  went  on  the  swollen  tide. 
And  the  saint,  astonished,  passed  through  alone, 
Without  his  manuscripts,  up  to  the  throne. 

Then  gravely  walking,  two  saints  by  name, 
Down  to  the  stream  together  came. 
But  as  they  stopped  at  the  river's  brink, 
I  saw  one  saint  from  the  other  shrink. 

"  Sprinkled  or  plunged,  may  I  ask  you,  friend, 

How  you  attained  to  Ufe's  great  end  ?  " 

"  Thus,  with  a  few  drops  on  my  brow  " ; 

"  But  I  have  been  dipped,  as  you  '11  see  me  now." 

"  And  I  really  think  it  will  hardly  do. 
As  I  'm  '  close  communion,'  to  cross  with  you, 
You  're  bound,  I  know,  to  the  realms  of  bliss. 
But  you  must  go  that  way,  and  I  '11  go  this." 

And  straightway  plunging  with  all  his  might, 
Away  to  the  left  —  his  friend  at  the  right, 
Apart  they  went  from  this  world  of  sin. 
But  how  did  the  brethren  "  enter  in  "  ? 

And  now  where  the  river  was  rolling  on, 

A  Presbyterian  church  went  down ; 

Of  women,  there  seemed  an  innumerable  throng, 

But  the  men  I  could  count  as  they  passed  along. 


496  HOUSEHOLD   READING. 

And  concerning  the  road  they  could  never  agree, 
The  Old,  or  the  New  way,  which  it  could  be ; 
Nor  ever  a  moment  paused  to  think 
That  both  would  lead  to  the  river's  brink. 

And  a  sound  of  murmuring  long  and  loud 

Came  ever  up  from  the  moving  crowd, 

"  You  're  in  the  Old  way,  and  I  'm  in  the  New, 

That  is  the  false,  and  this  is  the  true," 

Or,  "  I  'm  in  the  Old  way,  and  you  're  in  the  New, 

That  is  the  false,  and  this  is  the  true." 

But  the  brethren  only  seemed  to  speak, 
Modest  the  sisters  walked,  and  meek, 
And  if  ever  one  of  them  chanced  to  say 
"What  troubles  she  met  with  on  the  way, 
How  she  longed  to  pass  to  the  other  side, 
Nor  feared  to  cross  over  the  swelling  tide, 
A  voice  arose  from  the  brethren  then, 
"  Let  no  one  speak  but  the  '  holy  men.' 
For  .have  ye  not  heard  the  words  of  Paul? 
*  O  let  the  women  keep  silence  all.' " 

I  watched  them  long,  in  my  curious  dream, 

Till  they  stood  by  the  border  of  the  stream. 

Then,  just  as  I  thought,  the  two  ways  met. 

But  all  the  brethren  were  talking  yet, 

And  would  talk  on,  till  the  heaving  tide 

Carried  them  over,  side  by  side  ; 

Side  by  side,  for  the  way  was  one, 

The  toilsome  journey  of  life  was  done. 

And  priest  and  Quaker,  and  all  who  died, 

Came  out  alike  on  the  other  side ; 

No  forms  or  crosses,  or  books  had  they. 

No  gowns  of  silk,  or  suits  of  gray. 

No  creeds  to  guide  them,  or  MSS., 

For  all  had  put  on  "  Christ's  righteousness." 


GUNGA:    OR,   THE   "ALL-BAD"    AND   THE  "ALL-GOOD."       497 


GUNGA:   OR,  THE  "ALL-BAD"   AND   THE 
"ALL  GOOD." 

THE  long,  dreary  rain  had  scarcely  ceased  its  constant 
patter  for  weeks,  against  the  window  of  the  sitting- 
room  of  a  bamboo  cottage  in  Northwestern  Burmah.  A  lady 
stood  by  the  window,  looking  beyond  the  trickling  drops 
that  chased  each  other  down  the  water-dimmed  panes  in 
weary  succession,  looking  beyond  the  limes,  the  plantains, 
and  the  cocoanuts  that  embosomed  the  little  mission  home, 
upon  the  swollen  banks  of  the  rapid  Brahmaputra,  one  of 
those  "  twin  rivers "  of  Asia,  rising  in  the  same  region 
with  the  Ganges,  flowing  separately  hundreds  of  miles, 
and  then  uniting  again  to  pour  their  waters  by  a  double 
mouth  into  the  Bay  of  Bengal. 

If  you  had  not  looked  closely,  you  might  have  thought 
she  was  idly  watching  the  muddy  stream  that  filled  its 
low  banks  to  overflowing,  or  some  native  boat  gliding 
rapidly  upon  ils  swollen  surface  ;  or  perhaps  recalling  the 
sad  calamity  which  befell  their  former  mission  home  in 
Sadiya,  when,  three  years  before,  one  of  the  four  long- 
looked-for  missionaries  who  was  nearing  their  town  was 
drowned  in  this  same  river,  in  sight  of  the  mission  station 
he  so  eagerly  sought.  But  had  you  observed  carefully, 
you  would  have  felt  sure  that  neither  the  river  nor  the 
driving  rain  held  her  attention.  Tears  were  slowly  cours- 
ing down  her  cheeks,  which  Time  had  scarcely  furrowed  ; 
though  he  had  mingled  a  few  delicate  threads  of  silver 
with  the  soft  brown  curls  that  shaded  her  thoughtful  face. 
The  present  was  lost  sight  of  for  the  moment,  and  warm 
thoughts  were  busy  with  the  past.  A  curiously  carved 
secretary,  of  dark  wood,  stood  near  the  window,  and  on 
its  top  a  Chinese  tray,  filled  with  bright  Patna  toys,  —  a 
child's  tea-set.     One  hand  lay  carelessly   on  the  window's 

32 


498  -  HOUSEHOLD   READING. 

ledge,  while  the  fingers  of  the  other  toyed  absently  with 
a  scarlet  sugar-bowl  edged  with  bright  green  and  bands 
of  shining  black.  The  little  dishes  were  too  fresh  and 
glossy  to  have  been  worn  by  childish  fingers,  —  not  a  bro- 
ken knob  or  handle  told  of  childish  use.  They  were  a 
new  set,  only  there  to  fill  the  place  of  an  old  one,  which 
had  often  stood  there  when  busy  fingers  had  grown  weary, 
and  left  them  for  their  good-night  pillows.  And  where 
were  the  little  ones  ?  Ah !  it  was  that  question  with  which 
memory  was  busy  ;  tugging  at  that  which  ever  lies  nearest  a 
mother's  heart. 

One,  the  little  boy  of  five,  the  most  tenderly  cherished, 
and,  if  possible,  the  best  beloved,  because  for  months  a 
patient  sufferer  from  a  terrible  disease  peculiar  to  the 
climate  of  India,  lay  now  sweetly  sleeping  in  his  turf- 
covered  bed  in  a  cemetery  at  Calcutta  ;  the  infant  form 
of  another  lay  alone  near  their  home  in  another  part  of 
Burmah  ;  and  yet  another,  the  first-born,  who  had  early 
given  her  heart  to  the  Saviour,  and  been  early  called  home, 
was  separated  from  them  by  the  ocean,  and  slept  sweetly 
at  last  in  her  mother's  native  valley  in  New  England. 
She  had  been  first  buried  in  a  little  guarded  enclosure, 
but  a  few  steps  from  their  own  door,  but  twice  her  re- 
mains had  been  disturbed  by  the  natives,  from  the  belief 
that  the  missionaries  were  accustomed  to  bury  treasvires 
in  the  graves  of  their  dead. 

She  thought  of  the  night  when,  a  few  years  before,  she 
awoke  from  a  bed  of  pain  in  the  midst  of  a  severe  storm 
of  wind  and  rain,  startled  by  having  dreamed  that  the 
little  form  had  been  for  the  second  time  removed  from  its 
resting-place,  and  s»  anxious,  from  some  unaccountable  im- 
pression that  it  must  be  true,  that  her  husband,  more  to 
calm  her  fears  than  that  he  felt  that  it  could  be  needful, 
went  with  an  English  friend  to  the  grave,  found  it  re- 
opened, and  securing  the  remains,  kept  them  secreted  in 
a  place  of  safety  until  they  could  be  conveyed  to  America. 


GUNGA:    OR,   THE   "ALL-BAD"    AND   THE   "ALL-GOOD."     490 

The  three,  sweet  in  their  lives,  and  so  widely  separated  in 
death,  no  doubt  shared  their  pure  joys  together,  where 
harps  of  gold  are  wakened  to  sweetest  praise.  And  two 
still  were  left.  She  wept  not  for  the  three,  safely  folded 
by  the  Good  Shepherd  ;  but,  as  one  after  another  had  been 
taken,  the  parents  had  decided  that  the  two  remaining 
ones  could  not  be  brought  up  in  India,  and  it  was  but 
a  few  months  since  this  mother,  now  looking  indeed  so 
desolate,  had  returned  from  America  alone,  leaving  her 
little  boy  and  girl  in  Christian  homes  in  New  England, 
where,  too,  she  had  taken  the  remains  of  her  first-born. 
The  tea-set,  finger-worn  and  partly  broken,  whose  place 
the  new  Patna  toys  now  occupied,  had  gone  with  Lizzie 
to  America  ;  and  Willie's  ivory  balls  and  Chinese  puzzles 
were  no  more  scattered  over  the  matting  of  their  empty 
playroom. 

These  scarlet  toys  formed  the  link  in  the  chain  which 
went  from  the  mother's  heart  across  the  Atlantic  with 
electric  speed,  and  joined  her  heart  to  two  little  orphaned 
ones  on  the  other  side.  She  was  thinking  of  the  last 
good-by,  the  last  prayer  in  which  she  had  knelt  by  her 
sobbing  children  to  plead  with  the  Father  of  us  all,  that 
He  would,  in  very  deed,  be  their  Father  and  her  stay  in 
the  great  trial  whose  depth  of  bitterness  yet  remained  to 
be  proved.  She  was  thinking  of  the  answer  to  that  prayer, 
—  the  new  strength  that  came  into  her  heart,  lifting  her 
into  a  sunlight  of  peace  she  had  not  believed  she  could 
feel.  She  was  thinking  of  the  long  voyage,  —  the  heart 
alone  on  the  wide  sea,  divided  painfully  between  the  chil- 
dren left  behind  and  tlie  husband  and  home  and  heathen 
children  awaiting  her  in  India,  —  of  the  safe  return,  —  the 
glad  and  yet  sad  meeting  with  her  beloved  husband,  who 
looked  beyond  her,  when  greeting  her  return,  as  if  he 
should  see  two  little  forms  to  share  their  mother's  wel- 
come. It  was  a  picture  of  the  past  which  gives  us  one 
of  those  glimpses  into  real  missionary  life,  that  dry  statis- 
tics, hurriedly  given,  fail  to  open  before  us. 


bOO  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

Soon  other  thoughts  seemed  chasing  away  the  vision. 
The  tears  were  brushed  back,  the  toys  put  into  a  drawer, 
out  of  sight,  and  leaving  the  window,  the  mother  crossed 
the  room,  and  gently  opening  a  door  in  one  corner,  revealed 
a  pleasant  study,  where  sat  a  gentleman  bending  earnestly 
over  a  volume  on  the  table  before  him.  Piles  of  papers 
and  books  lay  near,  but  the  work  on  which  his  thoughts 
were  intently  fixed  was  a  large  manuscript,  —  a  copy  of 
the  New  Testament,  which  he  was  translating  into  the 
Assamese  language  ;  a  work  he  had  commenced  nearly 
seven  years  before,  and  which,  three  years  after  (in  1849), 
was  completed,  and  given  to  an  eager  and  waiting  people. 

"  It  is  enough  !  "  she  said,  giving  words  to  the  conclusion 
of  her  long  revery ;  "  this  more  than  pays  for  all.  I  have 
to  come  to  you  yet  for  strength,"  she  said  cheerfully,  as 
she  laid  her  hand  on  the  nearly  completed  work. 

"  You  have  been  '  thinking '  again,"  he  said  pleasantly  ; 
"  and  then  came  here  for  strength.  Let  us  both  seek  it 
from  the  only  true  Source  of  strength."  The  two  knelt 
in  prayer.  It  was  a  sacred  hour  ;  and  not  only  did  they 
receive  new  help  in  their  own  need,  but  might  not  their 
angels,  "  who  do  always  behold  the  face  of  their  Father 
in  heaven,"  have  been  stimulated  in  their  watchful  care 
by  the  earnest  petitions  which  ascended  for  the  dear  ones 
in  America  ? 

"  I  have  been  thinking,  now  that  they  are  all  gone,  of 
my  old  wish  and  plan  for  receiving  some  native  children 
into  our  own  house.  I  would  rejoice  to  take  even  the 
lowest  Karen  to  my  home  and  heart." 

"  Perhaps  the  desire  is  given  to  pr^^pare  you  for  the  work," 
replied  her  husband. 

Just  then  a  heavy  step  and  voices  were  heard  at  the  outer 
door.  A  man,  rough  and  repulsive  in  his  appearance,  stood 
at  the  entrance,  holding  by  the  hand  a  very  little  girl,  scarce- 
ly three  years  old.  He  had  come  to  give  her  to  the  "  good 
people,"  if  they  would  have  her.  "  Her  mother  was  dead, 
and  he  had  no  way  to  care  for  her." 


GUNGA  :  OR,  THE  "  ALL-BAD  "  AND  THE  "  ALL-GOOD."   501 

"  Have  you  no  other  child  old  enough  to  help  take  care  of 
this  one,  to  give  me  also  ? " 

He  had  none  but  a  girl  of  thirteen,  "  who  was  already- 
sold  to  her  future  husband  for  a  pair  of  oxen." 

"  It  will  be  more  than  you  are  able  to  do,  I  fear,"  said 
her  husband. 

"  Not  more  than  I  should  like  to  attempt.  God  will 
provide  a  nurse,"  and  the  lady  took  the  little  brown  hand 
in  hers,  and  her  heart  warmed  toward  her  first  baby 
"  scholar."  The  man  thankfully  accepted  the  lunch  of 
cold  rice  and  roasted  yam  which  were  offered  him,  as  he 
sat  on  his  mat  by  the  cottage  door  ;  and  then  with  perhaps 
a  feeling  of  relief,  rather  than  regret,  went  his  way,  and 
left  the  little  Naga  in  her  strange  new  home. 

Scarcely  had  she  been  dressed  in  her  new  and  neat  attire, 
when,  a  few  days  after,  a  "  mountain  man,"  coarse,  and 
almost  savage  in  his  manner,  led  to  the  missionary's  house 
a  stout,  bold-looking  girl,  apparently  about  twelve  or  thirteen 
years  of  age. 

*'  This  is  the  nurse  for  Naga,  and  my  second  scholar ! " 
was  the  teacher's  first  thought,  as  the  man,  stopping  at 
their  door,  asked  in  his  own  broken  language  if  they 
wanted  a  very  bad  child.  He  could  do  nothing  with  her. 
She  would  run  away  and  remain  in  the  mountain  recesses 
like  a  wild  girl, — in  short,  she  was  "all  bad."  He  had 
heard  that  the  missionary  teacher  would  take  children  in  his 
home,  and  had  brought  her  to  them,  hoping  they  could 
do  something  for  her.  The  missionaries  vainly  endeavored 
to  suppress  their  smiles  at  this  honest  statement,  but  they 
promised  to  try  the  girl  in  whose  countenance  they  could 
read  nothing,  so  perfectly  immovable  seemed  every  linea- 
ment of  her  oval  face. 

Two  scholars  !  an  infant,  and  Gunga,  the  all-bad,  as 
nurse  !  They  soon  found  there  had  been  no  mistake  in 
the  description  of  Gunga.  It  was  most  emphatically  all- 
bad. 


502  HOUSEHOLD   READING. 

If  she  had  known  the  Ten  Commandments,  and  sought  to 
try  each  day  how  many  she  could  break,  it  might,  in  some 
degree,  have  accounted  for  her  conduct. 

"  It  will  never  do,"  said  the  missionary  to  his  wife  one 
day,  after  a  serious  hour  of  conflict  and  partial  discourage- 
ment with  the  incorrigible  girl ;  "  you  will  wear  out  between 
the  two,  and  no  good,  I  fear,  come  of  it." 

But  the  same  smile  that  rested  on  his  wife's  face,  after 
the  prayer  in  the  study  on  that  rainy  night,  still  came,  to 
reply  to  his  fears  as  she  answered  :  — 

"I  am  not  discouraged  yet.  The  words  of  Jeremiah, 
regarding  the  Jews,  seem  whispering  hope  to  me,  in  spite 
of  her  wickedness  :  '  For  I  will  restore  health  unto  tliee, 
and  I  will  heal  thee  of  thy  wounds,  saith  the  Lord  ; 
because  they  called  tliee  an  outcast.''  It  is  '  the  guiltiest  of 
the  guilty,  the  vilest  of  the  vile,'  who  will  shine  in  the 
brightest  robes  when  they  are  once  washed  and  purified. 
It  is  the  '  scarlet  and  the  crimson '  that  shall  be  white  as 
wool  and  as  snow." 

A  year  passed  away,  and  Gunga  still  remained  nearly 
the  same.  Constant  watchfulness,  untiring  patience,  earnest 
prayer,  and  unswerving  faith  were  the  ties  that  kept  her  in 
the  home  school.  Other  children  had  been  added,  each 
different  in  temperament,  each  trying  enough,  but  none 
like  Gunga.  Little  Naga  was  the  growing  comfort  of  the 
household  ;  and  almost  the  only  spark  of  affection  ever 
noticed  in  Gunga  was  an  occasional  gleam  of  hearty  good- 
will toward  the  '  baby  scholar.'  Her  large  scarlet  and 
black  Betel  box  showed  treasures  gathered  by  Gunga  ;  the 
prettiest  necklaces  of  bright-colored  seeds  were  strung  for 
Naga,  and  the  gayest  feathers  selected  for  her  curiously 
constructed  little  toy  fans  :  but  woe  to  even  these,  if  by 
chance  she  offended  Gunga,  or  in  any  way  taxed  her  pa- 
tience too  far  !  The  suddenly  snapped  cord  would  send  the 
scattered  seeds  of  the  necklaces  in  every  direction,  or  make 
the   feathers   of   her   choicest   fan   fly   as   suddenly   to   the 


GUNGA  :  OR,  THE  "  ALL-BAD  "  AND  THE  "  ALL-GOOD."   5C3 

wind  ;  a  coarse  laugh,  or  an  indignant  exclamation  of  dis- 
gust, being  the  only  response  to  the  pitiful  cries  of  poor 
Naga.  Unless,  indeed,  with  greater  marks  of  depravity, 
her  cries  of  dismay  were  suddenly  stopped  by  horrible 
threats  of  what  the  bronze  image  of  Juggernaut,  which 
stood  on  a  shelf  in  the  study,  would  do  for  little  girls  who 
cried  within  a  mile  of  his  presence. 

But  in  spite  of  all  this,  Gunga  was  not  without  some 
sober  thoughts,  and  although  no  good  fruit  was  to  be 
seen  as  the  result  of  the  patient  instruction  she  daily 
received,  something  was  no  doubt  working  in  her  inquisi- 
tive mind,  more  than  always  appeared  on  the  surface. 

More  than  once  her  kind  teacher  had  seen  a  curious  look 
of  contempt  cross  her  features  when  she  was  explaining 
the  folly  of  many  things  believed  by  the  Hindus  about 
their  gods  ;  and  a  peculiar  laugh,  showing  anything  but 
reverence  for  the  Divine  powers  of  Juggernaut,  was  all 
the  expression  she  gave  of  her  attention  to  the  explanation 
she  once  sought,  as  to  the  reason  why  in  all  the  images 
of  this  god  the  fingers  and  toes  were  left  in  an  unfinished 
state.  She  had  no  faith  in  the  idle  tales  of  her  own  people, 
and  none  in  the  wiser  counsels  of  the  missionaries. 

Naga  was  sitting  in  her  favorite  corner  one  afternoon, 
and  Gunga,  on  the  matting  beside  her,  was  busied  with 
forming  words,  from  letter-blocks  she  had  herself  prepared 
for  her  little  charge,  when,  looking  up,  Gunga's  attention 
was  suddenly  attracted  to  her  mistress.  She  sat  near  the 
little  window  by  the  secretary,  and  again  tears  were  rolling- 
down  her  cheeks,  and  blurring,  as  they  fell,  the  large  open 
sheet  of  closely  written  paper  before  her.  Gunga  had  never 
seen  her  mistress  weep.  She  left  the  blocks  and  Naga,  and 
stole  softly  up  to  the  lady's  side.  She  stood  so  long,  looking 
silently  into  her  face,  that  the  tears  ceased  to  flow  ;  the  lady's 
attention  was  drawn  from  herself,  and  her  arm  gently  placed 
around  the  wondering  girl. 

"  I  am  not  sad, -Gunga  ;  I  was  crying  for  joy  !  " 


504  HOUSEHOLD   READING. 

Gunga's  eyes  opened  wide,  and  her  mouth  also,  in  her 
vain  endeavor  to  comprehend  such  a  strange  statement. 
She  did  not  venture  a  word,  but  looked,  with  a  solemn 
earnestness  never  before  seen  on  her  face,  into  her  teach- 
er's eyes. 

"  Yes,  I  was  crying  for  joy,  Gunga.  Listen,  and  I  will 
tell  you.  I  once  had  a  dear  little  boy  ;  not  brown,  but 
white  and  fair  as  a  lily.  He  died,  and  we  put  him  in  the 
ground,  and  then  another  little  boy  was  given  us,  and  we 
buried  him,  and  a  sweet  little  daughter,  too,  was  taken 
from  us,  and  none  of  them  are  buried  where  I  can  often 
go  to  look  at  their  little  graves.  But  away  —  very  far 
away  —  I  have  still  a  dear  little  girl,  fair,  and  very  precious 
to  me.  She  could  not  live  here.  She  would  have  died, 
too,  and  I  took  her  away  to  another  land,  where  I  once 
lived,  and  left  her  there,  to  come  back  to  India,  and  teach 
you,  and  other  children,  who  are  taught  to  pray  to  idol 
gods,  that  can  do  no  one  any  good,  about  the  true  Saviour. 

"  And  now  this  letter  is  from  that  dear  child  away  in 
America ;  and  what  do  you  think  she  has  told  me,  that 
has  made  my  heart  so  full  of  joy  ?  It  is  that  she  has 
given  her  heart  to  this  Saviour,  and  loves  him,  —  loves  him 
more  than  she  loves  her  darling  brother  ;  yes,  more  than 
she  loves  her  father  and  mother  whom  she  never  again 
expects  to  see  in  tliis  world.  I  could  not  live  away  from 
them  if  I  did  not  love  yon.  0  Gunga,  if  you  would  love 
this  same  Saviour,  pray  to  him,  ask  him  very  earnestly,  with 
all  your  heart,  and  he  can  give  you,  too,  a  neiv  heart ;  and 
you  will  make  me  cry  again  for  joy.  I  will  call  you,  then, 
my  child,  you  shall  have  her  name,  and  I  will  rejoice  that 
I  could  leave  her  to  bring  you  to  Christ." 

Suddenly,  without  a  word,  Gunga  darted  from  the  room. 
For  days  she  scarcely  appeared  again,  and  when  she  was 
about  her  usual  task,  caring  for  Naga,  there  was  a  strange 
look  upon  her  face,  —  a  something  which  seemed  almost  like 
despair. 


GUNGA  :    OE,    THE   "ALL-BAD"    AND   THE   "ALL-GOOD."       505 

But  one  morning  she  came  into  the  teacher's  room  with 
that  look  all  gone.  There  was  a  sweet,  earnest  light  in 
her  eye,  as  she  came  up  tremblingly,  and,  bursting  into  a 
flood  of  tears,  exclaimed,  — 

"  I  think  I  love  Lizzie's  Saviour  !  " 

Had  an  arrow  pierced  the  lady's  heart,  she  would  not 
have  felt  a  keener  thrill ;  but  it  was  a  thrill  of  joy ! 
Gunga,  the  all-bad  !  Was  it  possible  she  had  been  sitting 
at  the  Saviour's  feet,  and  had  now  come  —  a  repetition  of 
the  old  miracle  —  clothed,  and  in  her  right  mind  ? 

"  Pity  my  unbelief !  "  was  all  she  could  exclaim,  as  with 
streaming  eyes  she  embraced  the  wondering  child. 

It  was  a  happy  evening  in  the  Bamboo  Cottage.  Words 
cannot  portray  the  sacredness  of  that  joy.  Songs  of  new 
praise  ascended  from  its  reed-thatched  roof,  and  reached  the 
ears  of  Him  who  waked  it. 

And  Gunga  was  changed  indeed.  Others  in  their  home 
school  and  in  the  daily  mission  school  had  given  evidence 
from  time  to  time  of  a  change  of  heart,  but  in  none  was 
this  so  apparent  as  in  Gunga's  case.  The  crimson  had  be- 
come like  snow. 

The  whole  energy  of  her  nature  was  now  bent  in  an 
opposite  direction  to  her  past  life.  She  lived  for  years  in 
the  missionary's  family,  a  beautiful  example  of  the  spirit 
of  Christ.  She  was  married  by  the  missionary  to  a  Chris- 
tian convert,  and  their  home  was  a  Christian  home.  The 
family  altar  was  set  up,  and  cherished  with  a  sacredness 
which  might  put  to  blush  many  families  who  had  never 
known  an  all-bad  among  their  inmates. 

The  lady  still  lives,  and  her  husliand  also.  Worn  with 
the  labor  of  more  than  a  score  of  years  in  India,  they  have 
been  permitted  to  return  to  their  native  land,  and  embrace 
the  children,  once  given  up,  as  was  Isaac,  wholly  to  the 
Lord.     The  Lord  has  provided  for  them  "  another  sacrifice." 

And  now,  as  they  look  back  over  the  labor  and  the  gain 
of  their  life  of  toil,  and  faith,  and  self-denial,  —  upon  the 


506  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

success  of  many  efforts,  —  the  unlocking  for  thousands  of 
heathen  the  priceless  riches  of  the  New  Testament,  —  the 
conversion  of  many,  and  the  education  of  many  more, 
perhaps  no  event  of  those  twenty  years  brings  a  more 
peculiar  thrill  of  pleasure  in  the  recollection,  than  the 
wonderful  change  of  Gunga,  the  "  all-bad "  ;  and  there 
may  come  to  them  no  sweeter  hope,  when  their  labors  are 
all  finished,  than  that  of  meeting  among  the  welcoming 
ransomed  ones  Gunga  the  "  all-good."  And  then,  as  now, 
will  they  give  all  the  praise  "  to  Him  who  alone  is  able  to 
prevent  us  from  falling,  and  present  us  faultless  before  his 
presence,  with  exceeding  joy." 


A  HIDDEN  CROSS. 


IT  is  to  be  feared  that  many  are  deceived  in  entering  upon 
a  religious  life,  and  uniting  with  the  Church  of  God. 
But  no  man  shall  ever  be  able  to  say  that  Christ  has 
deceived  him.  He  meets  us  at  the  threshold,  and  sets 
forth,  in  simplest  and  plainest  terms,  the  conditions  of 
discipleship.  He  does  not  promise  riches,  or  respectability, 
or  position,  or  influence,  but  a  cross.  "  Then  said  Jesus 
unto  his  disciples.  If  any  man  will  come  after  me,  let  him 
deny  himself,  and  take  up  his  cross,  and  follow  me."  This 
is  not  to  be  resolved  into  a  Roman  proverb,  which  called 
the  afflictions  and  sorrows  common  to  man  everywhere, 
crosses,  in  allusion  to  death  by  crucifixion,  which  was  a  very 
frequent  occurrence  among  the  Romans.  Christ  spoke  the 
words  to  simple  and  unlettered  Jews,  who  had  hardly  been 
outside  the  limits  of  Judaea,  and  cannot  be  supposed  to  have 
been  acquainted  with  the  proverb  so  familiar  at  Rome. 

Christ's  words  must  have  sounded  strange  in  their  ears  ; 
taking  a  cross,  and  bearing  it  after  him !     What  could  it 


A  HIDDEN    CROSS.  507 

mean  ?  Nothing  could  possibly  be  further  from  their 
thoughts  than  that  Christ  should  ever  bear  a  cross,  that 
most  hideous  and  revolting  of  all  the  instruments  of  tor- 
ture and  death.  Still  less  was  it  to  be  believed  that  He, 
who  was  to  establish  a  kingdom  surpassing  in  glory  and 
magnificence  those  of  Solomon  and  the  Csesars  combined, 
was  to  hang  in  agony,  like  a  Roman  slave,  and  expire 
upon  a  frightful  cross  of  wood  !  Yet  they  must  have 
come  to  feel  gradually,  as  the  same  words,  for  substance, 
were  often  repeated  by  the  Master,  that  there  was  a  terri- 
ble meaning  in  them,  so  terrible,  even,  that  they  did  not 
care  to  understand.  It  does  not  appear  that  they  ever 
asked  for  an  explanation,  but  rather  declined  to  receive  it, 
when  Christ  sought  to  unfold  it  to  them,  as  the  tragical 
events  came  hastening  on  which  should  make  all  plain 
forever.  When  they  saw  him  actually  "  bearing  his  cross," 
and  fainting  under  the  burden,  by  reason  of  the  weakness 
induced  by  the  exceeding  sorrows  of  his  soul ;  saw  him 
fastened  with  nails  to  that  cross  ;  saw  him  dead  upon  it, 
as  if  He  had  been  the  incarnation  of  all  blackest  human 
guilt,  —  with  what  amazement  and  terror  must  they  have 
remembered  those  now  fearful  words,  "  Let  him  take  up 
his  cross  and  follow  me." 

Some  of  those  men  followed  Christ  literally  in  the  matter, 
and  died  as  he  had  died,  on  a  cross,  and  for  his  name.  But 
all  learned,  by  the  teaching  of  the  Spirit  of  God,  and  their 
own  personal  experience,  that  the  ultimate  meaning  of 
Christ  was  not  found  in  a  wooden  cross  and  a  literal 
death,  but,  more  difficult  still,  in  a  daily  and  life-long 
dying  to  the  world  and  sin.  So  Paul  says,  "  I  am  cruci- 
fied with  Christ,  nevertheless  I  live."  And  again,  "I  pro- 
test by  your  rejoicing,  which  I  have  in  Christ  Jesus  our 
Lord,  I  die  daily."  And  lest  any  should  suppose  that 
his  case  is  peculiar,  by  reason  of  the  special  high  service  to 
which  the  Master  has  called  him,  he  says  of  all  the  true  dis- 
ciples, "  They  that  are  Christ's  have  crucified  the  flesh,  with 
the  affections  and  lusts." 


508  HOUSEHOLD   READING. 

It  is  only  too  plain  what  Christ  meant  by  taking  up  the 
cross  and  following  him.  His  language  marks  the  sharp  and 
irreconcilable  hostility  between  the  spirit  of  the  world  and 
the  religion  of  Jesus  Christ.  To  he  a  Christian  is  to  bear  a 
cross,  and  that  not  occasionally  for  a  day,  but  constantly, 
every  day,  from  the  beginning  to  the  end  of  the  course.  It 
is  not  poverty,  nor  sickness,  nor  pain,  but  the  patient,  per- 
sistent conflict  with  the  strongest  passions  and  most  rooted 
habits  of  the  soul ;  passions  and  habits  so  cardinal  that  they 
constitute  the  man  ;  and  so  their  subjugation  is,  with  the 
utmost  precision  of  terms,  the  man  dying ;  and  the  process 
of  subjugation  is  so  painful,  and  slow,  and  lingering,  that 
Christ  calls  it  a  bearing  of  his  own  cross  by  a  man  to  the 
place  of  his  own  crucifixion. 

Could  anything  possibly  be  plainer  than,  that,  since  every 
one  has  the  same  sinful  nature  to  be  subdued,  whoever  will 
be  a  disciple  of  Christ  must  pass  through  the  same  painful 
process  of  dying  to  the  world  and  sin  ? 

Is  this  the  spirit  which  marks  the  piety  of  the  present  day  ? 
Does  each  ne«v  convert,  as  he  enters  the  ranks  of  the  Church, 
and  names  the  name  of  Christ,  resolutely  take  up  his  cross, 
and  patiently  bear  it  after  the  Master  ?  Is  the  visible  Church 
a  noble  company  of  cross-bearers,  glorying  in  this  badge  of 
discipleship,  broadly  and  evidently  distinguished  from  the 
world  ?  • 

Alas !  the  great  religious  problem  of  the  age  seems  to  be, 
how  one  can  be  a  Christian  on  the  easiest  terms,  —  with  the 
smallest  amount  of  doctrine  to  be  believed,  and  the  smallest 
amount  of  experience  to  be  passed  through.  Deep  convic- 
tions of  sin  are  not  required,  and  are  not  found  ;  the  "  law- 
work,"  on  which  the  fathers  laid  so  much  stress,  is  a  thing 
of  the  past.  The  gate  is  not  so  very  strait,  or  the  way  so 
very  narrow.  The  cross,  too,  is  altogether  changed.  It  is  a 
thing  of  art  and  ornament.  It  is  fashioned  with  skill,  and 
covered  with  gold,  and  points  the  spire  of  the  proud  Christian 
temple ;  it  is  wreathed  with  flowers  to  win  admiration  among 


CHRISTIAN  DOCTRINES.  509 

the  adornments  of  a  festive  occasion  ;  it  is  richly  set  with 
pearls  and  diamonds,  and  suspended  on  the  neck  of  beauty. 
All  its  repulsiveness  is  gone.  It  suggests  nothing  of  sacrifice, 
nothing  of  conflict  with  subtle  foes,  resistance  to  mighty 
forces  of  evil ;  nothing  of  the  lingering  and  painful  death  of 
strong  passions  having  their  seat  at  the  very  centre  of  the 
spiritual  nature. 

Is  there  not  pressing  and  mournful  need  of  a  new  order 
of  spiritual  revival  in  the  churches,  —  a  revival  in  which  the 
power  of  the  Holy  Ghost  shall  be  not  less  manifest  and  con- 
spicuous than  the  agency  of  man,  and  which  shall  restore  to 
its  proper  place  in  doctrinal  belief  and  in  the  religious  life 
a  hidden  cross  ? 


CHRISTIAN    DOCTRINJIS. 

SO  essential  to  spiritual  life  is  the  faith  which  they  cherish, 
that  it  is  important  for  Christians  to  familiarize  them- 
selves with  lucid  statements  of  the  cardinal  truths  of  our 
religion.  It  were  well  for  the  members  of  our  churches  habit- 
ually to  study  their  creeds.  And  we  would  commend  to  our 
readers,  for  contemplative  perusal,  the  following  formula  of 
Christian  doctrine,  which  happily  expresses  those  great  prin- 
ciples of  the  faith  once  delivered  to  the  saints  which  it  has 
ever  been  the  object  of  the  "  Congregationalist "  to  maintain 
and  defend :  — 

"  We  believe  that  there  is  but  one  God,  the  Creator,  Pre- 
server, and  Governor  of  the  Universe ;  a  Being  of  perfect  and 
adorable  attributes. 

"  That  the  Scriptures  of  the  Old  and  New  Testaments  were 
given  by  inspiration  of  God,  and  are  the  only  perfect  and  suf- 
ficient rule  of  faith  and  practice. 

"  That  the  Godhead  is  revealed  in  the  Scriptures  as  the 


610  HOUSEHOLD  BEADING. 

Father,  the  Son,  and  the  Holy  Ghost;  and  that  these  three, 
equal  in  all  divine  attributes,  are  one  God. 

"  That  God's  eternal  purposes  respect  all  actual  events ;. 
that  in  forming  and  executing  them,  he  takes  counsel  only  of 
himself,  and  that  the  principles  and  administration  of  his 
government  are  holy,  just,  and  good. 

"  That  man  was  originally  holy ;  but  that,  by  sinning 
against  God,  he  fell  from  that  state,  and  that,  in  consequence 
of  the  fall,  all  mankind  are  by  nature  entirely  destitute  of 
holiness,  and  disposed  to  sin. 

"  That  Jesus  Christ,  by  his  humiliation,  sufferings,  and 
death,  has  made  an  atonement  sufficient  for  the  redemption 
of  all  mankind  ;  and  that  pardon  and  eternal  life  are,  through 
him,  freely  offered  to  all. 

"  That  repentance  and  faith  in  Christ  are  the  only  con- 
ditions on  which  any  can  avail  themselves  of  the  offers  thus 
graciously  made ;  and  that  all,  while  left  to  themselves,  do 
refuse  to  comply  with  these  conditions. 

"  That  the  Holy  Spirit,  by  his  regenerating  energies,  doth 
influence  some  to  comply  with  these  conditions ;  and  that 
those  whom  he  renews  are  'kept  by  the  power  of  God, 
through  faith  unto  salvation.' 

"  "We  believe  in  the  resurrection  of  the  dead,  and  in  a  day 
of  judgment ;  when  all  mankind  are  to  receive  a  sentence  of 
retribution,  according  to  what  they  have  done  ;  and  that  the 
righteous  will  then  enter  into  life,  and  the  wicked  will  go 
away  into  punishment,  both  of  which  will  be  without  end. 

"  Moreover,  we  believe  that  in  this  world  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  has  a  visible  Church,  the  terms  of  admission  to  which 
are  a  public  profession  of  faith  in  Christ,  sustained  by  credible 
evidence.  That  Baptism  and  the  Lord's  Supper  are  ordi- 
nances to  be  observed  in  the  Church  to  the  end  of  the  world  ; 
that  none  but  members  of  the  visible  Church,  in  regular 
standing,  should  partake  of  the  Lord's  Supper,  and  that  only 
they  and  their  households  are  proper  subjects  for  the  ordi- 
nance of  Baptism." 


THE  CONGREGATIONALIST  AND  BOSTON  RECORDER.    511 


THE  CONGREGATIONALIST  AND  BOSTON 
RECORDER. 

THE  Boston  Recorder,  which  was  established  in  January, 
1816,  and  the  Congregationalist,  which  was  established 
in  May,  1849,  were  consolidated  under  one  proprietorship 
and  editorship  on  the  24th  of  May,  1867. 

It  has  been  a  question  much  discussed  whether  the  Re- 
corder was  the  earliest  religious  newspaper.  The  answer 
depends  upon  what  is  meant  by  the  question.  If  by  the 
term  "  religious  newspaper  "  is  intended  simply  a  periodical 
containing  religious  news,  it  is  clear  that  such  periodicals 
had  been  in  existence  many  years  before  the  Recorder  was 
issued.  Thomas  Prince's  Christian  History,  published  weekly 
in  Boston  during  1744  and  1745,  was  of  that  character  ; 
although  specially  devoted  to  gathering  up  the  results  of 
the  "  Great  Awakening."  The  United  Brethren  and  the 
London  Missionary  Society  sent  forth  sheets,  at  regular  in- 
tervals, carrying  the  records  of  their  work.  The  Religious 
Remembrancer,  which  was  started  at  Philadelphia,  4th  Sep- 
tember, 1813,  and  the  Weekly  Recorder,  Chilicothe,  Ohio, 
the  Christian  Monitor,  Richmond,  Va.,  and  the  Christian 
Visitant,  Albany,  N.  Y.,  of  about  the  same  date,  all 
seem  to  have  been  modifications,  of  a  little  different  form 
and  larger  size,  of  the  same  idea  which  had  been  working 
itself  out  in  the  missionary  periodicals  to  which  we  have 
referred.  All  of  these  appear  to  have  been  exclusively 
religious.  The  Boston  Recorder,  if  we  have  rightly  read  all 
the  voluminous  testimony,  was  unquestionably  the  first  peri- 
odical issued  which  engrafted  the  religious  idea  upon  the 
common  newspaper.  It  was  edited  from  a  Christian  point 
of  view,  and  yet  it  occupied  its  columns  largely  with  the 
common  news  of  the  day ;  being  intended  "  to  make  the 
common    newspaper,    which    circulates    everywhere,    carry 


512  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

a  knowledge  of  the  operations  in  the  religious  world  to 
every  village  in  the  land."  It  was,  therefore,  the  pioneer 
and  father  of  religious  newspapers,  in  the  sense  in  which 
that  term  is  now  used  in  the  ordinary  speech  of  men,  — 
the  first  full  super-royal  weekly  sheet,  complete  in  all  the 
departments  of  a  newspaper,  ever  issued  after  the  fashion 
of  what  is  now  intended  by  the  term  "  religious  newspaper." 
It  was  founded,  as  we  have  said,  in  January,  1816,  by 
Deacon  Nathaniel  Willis,  and  Mr.  Sydney  E.  Morse  was  its 
first  editor.  In  1817  Rev.  Richard  S.  Storrs  of  Braintree 
took  the  place  of  Mr.  Morse  as  editor.  In  1825  Mr.  Gerard 
Hallock  took  the  place  of  Mr.  Storrs,  bringing  with  him  the 
Telegraph  (which  had  been  published  but  a  single  year), 
and  becoming  equal  proprietor  with  Mr.  "Willis.  In  1826 
Mr.  Hallock  sold  his  half  of  the  united  paper  to  Rev.  Asa 
Rand.  In  1830  Mr.  Rand  disposed  of  his  interest  to  Mr. 
Willis,  who  employed  Professor  Calvin  E.  Stowe  as  assistant 
editor.  In  about  a  year  Mr.  Stowe  retired,  and  Mr.  E.  C. 
Tracy  took  his  place,  which  he  held  until  1834,  when  Rev. 
Joseph  Tracy  assumed  the  editorship.  In  1837  Mr,  Tracy 
retired  and  Deacon  Willis  edited  the  paper,  with  the  assistance 
of  special  contributors,  prominent  among  whom  was  Rev. 
Parsons  Cooke,  D.  D.  In  1844  Deacon  Willis  sold  the 
paper  to  Rev.  Martin  Moore,  who  received  the  assistance 
of  Rev.  Dr.  Storrs,  Rev.  E.  D.  Moore,  Rev.  A.  W.  McClure, 
and  J.  F.  Moore,  Esq.,  in  its  management.  In  1849  the 
New  Englayid  Puritan,  which  had  been  started  in  1840 
by  Rev.  Dr.  Parsons  Cooke,  was  united  with  the  Recorder, 
under  the  name  of  the  Puritan  Recorder,  the  consolidated 
sheet  being  published  by  Moore,  Woodbridge,  &  Co.,  under 
the  joint  editorship  of  Messrs.  Cooke  and  Woodbridge. 
In  1853  Rev.  S.  H.  Riddell  purchased  Mr.  Woodbridge's 
interest  and  succeeded  him  as  office  editor.  About  this 
time  the  subscription  list  of  the  Hartford  Oongregationalist 
was  purchased,  and  its  existence  merged  in  that  of  the 
Puritan  Recorder.      In  1858  Mr.  Riddell  retired,  and  Rev. 


THE  CONGKEGATIONALIST  AND  BOSTON  RECORDER.    513 

N.  Munroe  of  Bradford  took  his  place,  tho  paper  reviving 
the  old  name  and  style  of  the  Boston  Recorder.  In  No- 
vember, 1862,  Rev.  E.  P.  Marvin,  D.  D,,  purchased  the 
interest  of  Dr.  Cooke,  and  became  associated  with  the 
management,  and  in  the  following  May  he  became  sole 
owner  and  editor  ;  which  relation  he  sustained  until  the 
consolidation  of  the  Recorder  with  its  younger  sister. 

The  Congregationalist  was  started  in  May,  1849.  Its  first 
proprietors  were  Deacon  Galen  James  and  Deacon  Edward 
W.  Fay  ;  and  its  first  editors.  Rev.  Edward  Beecher,  D.  D., 
Rev.  Joseph  Haven,  Jr.,  and  Rev.  I.  N.  Tarbox  ;  Rev.  E.  D. 
Moore  being  office  editor,  and  bringing  to  it  the  subscription 
list  of  the  Boston  Reporter,  owned  by  him.  In  December, 
1850,  Mr.  Haven  retired  to  accept  a  professorship  at  Amherst, 
and  Rev.  Dr.  Storrs  of  Braintree  took  his  place.  In  1851 
Rev.  Mr.  Tarbox  became  Secretary  of  the  American  Edu- 
cation Society,  and  Rev.  H.  M.  Dexter  took  his  place. 
In  the  same  year  the  Christian  Times  was  merged  in  the  Con- 
gregationalist. In  December,  1853,  Dr.  Beecher  retired,  and 
Rev.  Dr.  A.  L.  Stone  became  editor  in  his  place.  In  Janu- 
ary, 1856,  the  old  firm  of  Galen  James  &  Co.  was  dissolved 
by  the  death  of  Deacon  Fay,  and  Messrs.  C.  A.  Richardson 
and  W.  L.  Greene  were  admitted  as  junior  partners.  Mr. 
Richardson  assumed  the  office  editorship ;  and.  Dr.  Storrs 
and  Dr.  Stone  retiring,  Mr.  Dexter  undertook  the  general 
editorship,  in  connection  with  his  pastorate  ;  the  paper 
being  managed  on  the  English  plan, —  a  large  number  of 
pastors  and  others  being  relied  upon  for  contributions  to 
the  editorial  columns,  under  the  constant  oversight  of  the 
leading  editor.  This  arrangement  of  editing  and  publishing 
continued  unchanged  for  ten  years,  until  the  1st  January, 
1866,  when,  in  consequence  of  the  pressure  of  parochial  cares, 
Mr.  Dexter  retired,  and  the  paper  came  under  the  general 
charge  of  Mr.  Richardson,  with  the  assistance  of  Mr.  Samuel 
Burnham,  and  the  co-operation  of  several  clergymen.  On 
the  1st  of  May,  1867,  the  firm  of  Galen  James  &  Co.  was 


514  HOUSEHOLD  READING. 

dissolved  by  the  retirement  of  the  senior  partner,  and  the 
new  pubhshing  firm  of  W.  L.  Greene  &  Co.  took  its  place, 
the  four  partners  being  W.  L.  Greene,  C.  A.  Richardson, 
Rev.  H.  M.  Dexter,  and  Rev.  Horace  James. 

On  the  24th  of  May  the  two  papers  were  consolidated 
under  the  name  of  T/ie  Congregationalist  and  Boston  Recorder, 
under  the  proprietorship  of  Messrs.  W.  L.  Greene  &  Co., 
the  former  owners  of  the  Congregationalist ;  the  Rev.  Dr. 
Marvin  becoming  an  associate  editor  of  the  new  journal. 

It  will  thus  be  seen  that  The  Congregationalist  and  Boston 
Recorder  is  the  present  representative  and  residuary  legatee 
of  the  Boston  Recorder  and  Telegraph,  of' the  New  England 
Puritan,  Puritan  Recorder,  and  Hartford  Congregationalist, 
and  of  the  Boston  Reporter,  Christian  Times,  and  Congrega- 
tionalist, not  to  mention  the  3Iaine  Evangelist,  the  New 
Hampshire  Congregational  Journal  and  Christian  Reporter, 
and  the  Illinois  Western  Indepeiident,  whose  lists  have  been 
absorbed  by  the  Congregationalist  at  some  period  of  its  life. 

Standing  thus  as  the  lineal  representative  of  the  oldest 
religious  journal  in  the  world,  and  of  several  younger  ones 
which  have  left  a  good  name  behind  them ;  while  enjoying 
still  the  strength  and  enthusiasm  of  the  freshness  of  youth ; 
managed  on  a  basis  of  utmost  fairness  to  all  "  schools "  ; 
and  aiming  to  supply  thoroughly  and  generously  all  which 
the  churches  need  and  look  for  in  such  a  journal,  The 
Congregationalist  and  Boston  Recorder  enters  upon  its  future 
with  a  circulation  of  nearly  thirty  thousand  subscribers,  and 
the  determination,  by  the  grace  of  God,  to  merit  —  and  there- 
fore the  hope  to  receive  —  the  confidence  and  love  of  the 
denomination  from  which  it  speaks,  and  for  which  espe- 
cially it  works,  and  the  respect  of  all,  as  "  a  workman  that 
needeth  not  to  be  ashamed." 


Cambridge  :  Stereotyped  and  Printed  by  Welch,  Bigelow,  &  Co. 
I 


The  Congregatioiialist  and  Boston  Recorder. 

A   RELIGIOUS   JOURNAL    FOR   THE    FAMILY. 

Quarto.     Price,  $  3.00  per  annum,  in  advance. 


This  Newspaper  has  been  enlarged  to  the  eight-page  form,  and  being  the  consolidation 
of  the  two  leading  Congregational  Journals  of  New  England,  it  now  offers  itself  as  peculiarly- 
adapted  to  the  wants  of  Orthodox  Congregational  families  and  others,  not  only  who  are  resident 
near  the  home  of  the  Pilgrims,  but  who,  emigrants  to  the  newer  portions  of  the  nation,  desire  to 
remain  in  contact  still  with  the  spirit  of  their  Fathers. 

As  representing  the  Boston  Recorder,  it  is  the  oldest  religious  newspaper  in  the  world,  and  it 
aims  to  maintain  the  sound  conservatism  in  doctrine  and  duty  which  found  exposition  for  so  many 
years  in  the  columns  of  that  sheet.  As  representing  the  Conyregationalist,  it  seeks  still  to 
press  all  those  urgent  motives  of  a  practical  theology  and  a  safe  and  Scriptural  reform,  which 
good  men  need  to  stimulate  them  to  carry  the  Gospel  to  every  creature,  and  to  make  the  Gospel 
to  every  creature  the  power  of  God  unto  salvation.  As  the  Congregationalist  and  Recorder, 
while  neither  "  old  school "  nor  "  new  school  "  as  such,  it  is  "  Orthodox  "  in  doctrine,  and  "  Con- 
gregational "  in  polity  ;  accepting  and  rejoicing  in  that  broad  and  catholic  temper,  which  "  exalts 
what  is  more  above  that  which  is  less  important,"  declaring  its  "  adherence  to  the  faith  and  order 
of  the  Apostolic  and  Primitive  churches  held  by  our  fathers,  and  substantially  as  embodied  in  the 
Confessions  and  Platforms  which  the  Synods  of  1618  and  1680  set  forth  and  confirmed,"  and  en- 
deavoring, in  a  fair  and  lionorable  spirit,  to  meet  all  the  reasonable  wants  and  supply  all  the 
natural  demands  of  our  denomination,  in  that  more  unified  and  homogeneous  state  to  which  the 
late  National  Council  has  introduced  it.  It  is  the  partisan  neither  of  Andover  nor  of  New  Haven 
nor  of  Hartford  ;  but  it  seeks  to  make  itself  both  acceptable  and  indispensable  to  each  and  to 
all. 

In  this  aim  it  is  intended  that  its  Editorial  staff  shall  permanently  embody  members  amply 
representing  those  various  views  which  find  congenial  home  in,  and  which  now  harmoniously 
compose,  the  true  Congregationalism  of  the  land. 

With  a  circulation  which  now  places  it  in  the  very  front  rank  of  the  religious  press  of  the  coun 
try,  —  a  position  shared  by  not  more  than  a  brace  of  competitors,  —  the  Congreijationalist  and 
Boston  Recorder  is  able  to  spend  upon  its  weekly  composition  an  amount  of  money  adequate  to 
secure  its  steady  advance  even  upon  that  high  position  of  general  merit  which,  in  the  public  con- 
cession, it  has  already  reached  ;  and  its  resources  will  be  unsparingly  used,  according  to  the  best 
judgment  of  its  management,  to  secure  for  it  the  ablest  discussions  of  matters  of  current  interest 
in  the  State  and  Commonwealth,  the  soundest  doctrinal  essays,  the  freshest  news  from  the 
Churches,  and  the  various  movements  of  the  cause  of  Christ,  the  wisest  judgments  on  our  cur- 
rent literature,  the  most  discreet  writing  for  the  little  ones,  and,  in  general,  whatever  is  needful 
to  make  it  as  nearly  a  perfect  Religious  Family  Newspaper  as  it  is  possible  for  its  conductors  to 
make  it 

W.  L.  GREENE  &  CO.,  Publishers, 

15  Coruhill,  Boston,  Mass. 

W.  L.  Greene,  C.  A.  Richardson, 

H.  M.  Dexter,  Horace  James. 

in?"  Every  Subscriber  who  in  sending  $3.00  for  one  year,  strictly  in  advance,  for  his  own  copy 
of  the  paper,  sends  also  $  3.00  for  advance  payment  of  a  new  Subscriber,  is  entitled  to  the  gift  of 
a  copy  of  Household  Reading,  as  a  premium. 


vi 


